The Golden Rule
by lusciouslemon
Summary: The Marshland army managed to defeat the Ogres on their own but now the small Kingdom finds itself on the brink of bankruptcy. In order to feed its starving citizens, newly crowned Prince Gaston peddles a highly sought-after commodity to the wealthiest among the Enchanted Forest; a night with the Beauty of Avonlea. Rumbelle AU.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Author's Note – Just to be perfectly clear from the get-go…this is NOT a rape fic! Belle will not be raped by **_**anyone **_**at**_** any time**_**. **

**While she does sleep with wealthy nobles in exchange for gold, I will not write those scenes; those will be reserved for Rumple! I may, however, write the scenes immediately preceding or following any sexual encounters with her patrons. You have been warned.**

**If you enjoyed my other story, "By Night One Way, By Day Another," then I think you'll like this one as well, although there will not be anywhere near as much smut. For now the M rating is due to the subject matter and not due to anything explicit. This is, at its heart, a love story and I will do my best to keep it light. **

**I absolutely adore Reviews (they make me write faster!) and while **_**constructive criticism**_** is always welcome, please no flaming! I realize that this is not something that Belle would normally do, that's why it is an AU! **

**Thank you and I hope you enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Prologue**

The young prince ran a hand through his short blond hair in impatience and checked his reflection in the cracked looking-glass for the seventh time since his arrival. He brushed away invisible creases in his black silk chemise and flicked his tongue over soft, smooth lips, smiling in satisfaction at the results.

He was perfect, as usual.

Only his personal valet knew the extent to which he went to maintain his looks; bees wax on his lips four times a day, a coating of goat's milk and honey on his face at night (when he was home) or, while away with his men or at war, a gentle dab of lanolin on his forehead and in the creases around his eyes.

He forewent the lanolin this evening, though, since he didn't want to be smelling of the stables tonight. That was fine around soldiers who would mistake it for the masculine scent of hard work and dedication.

It was not, however, a scent one wears while seducing a beautiful woman.

Although _seducing_ is probably not the right word to describe what he would be doing tonight. The heavy gold coins weighing down his purse should be compensation enough to skip the need for foreplay. He didn't give a damn about being charming. Tonight was all about _him_.

If she ever arrived, that is, he thought petulantly. Patience had never been one of his virtues and tonight was no exception.

He looked around the spacious but sparse guest room in the crumbling fortress in disgust. The Ogres War had certainly hit the small Kingdom hard. If rumors were to be believed (and by the looks of the collapsing villages he saw as he passed through their lands, they were accurate) the Marshlands were on the brink of financial collapse.

His chambers were warm and comfortable, it's true, but there was neither a trace of silk nor lace in the linens, no tapestries on the walls to break up the monotonous dark stonework, and the chalice that accompanied his wine was made of pewter instead of gold. It was certainly not befitting royalty; at least, not the type of royalty with whom he or his father normally associated.

The heavy oak doors opened with a resounding creak as the metal hinges rubbed together dryly. The prince quickly jumped unto the feather mattress and posed languidly across the bed. He sent the lone figure entering his most smoldering look.

"Keep your shirt on, your majesty," said an annoyed male voice. "It's only me."

"Sir Gaston," he sneered, quickly re-fastening a couple of errant buttons. "I'm not used to being kept waiting."

"That's _Prince_ Gaston now," he replied tiredly as he carefully shut the door behind him and locked it. "First things first. You have the gold?"

"Of course, your _majesty_." He jangled the velvet purse mockingly then tossed it to the newly crowned prince. "One hundred gold coins, as agreed. And if I may make a suggestion, use a couple of those to spruce up the place. A splash of color here, a marble statue there…your castle is really quite depressing, you know."

"Well, I'm sorry our humble accommodations are not up to your usual standards, Prince James," Gaston replied sarcastically. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but an army of ogres recently visited our lands and they weren't exactly hospitable guests. I have far more important plans for this gold than art and silk."

"Uh huh. That's a real shame." He carefully studied his recently manicured nails, already bored of his neighboring kingdom's plight. "So…what is going on? For a hundred pieces of gold this had better be worth it."

"Oh, it's worth it all right," Gaston said quietly. He tied the satchel to the leather loop of his trousers and gestured to the pair of chairs sitting in front of the roaring fire. "But first we must discuss the rules."

"Rules?" he said with a sneer. "Have you never heard of the Golden Rule, my friend?" He reluctantly sat down and leaned in to whisper in his host's ear. "Whoever has the gold _makes_ the rules! I have more of it than the likes of you could ever dream, _Sir_ Gaston. And I don't like playing by anyone else's rules."

"Well if you don't want to follow _my_ rules then I'm afraid we've wasted each other's time." Gaston's hands shook slightly as he undid the knot on the purse, as if every word pierced his pride. He grudgingly handed over the gold and turned away, back towards the door.

James gave him until the count of five before rolling his eyes in exasperation at the display and calling out. "All right! All right! Come back!" He had travelled several days for this little _diplomatic_ _mission_ and he wasn't about to leave unsatisfied. "Get on with your bloody rules already."

Gaston rubbed his hands together and smirked smugly as he returned to his seat. He held his palm up expectantly, waiting for the bag of gold to be returned to his outstretched hand, which it did with only a brief hesitation.

He leaned back into his seat with the all the confidence in the world and smiled at his eager guest. "Rule number one: her appearance means everything to this Kingdom, to her father, to her people…to me. Her beauty cannot be marred. Bruises and small cuts are forgivable and, as I understand, sometimes cannot be helped. But you are not to purposely hurt, burn, cut, or whip her and do try not to bite too hard."

"That doesn't sound like much fun," James interjected shrewdly and took a deep drink of wine.

"In return, she will be willing and compliant," continued Gaston. "Rule number two: there is to be absolute discretion! No exceptions. What is happening behind these doors is not public knowledge and no one can _ever_ know where the gold is really coming from. We do have a reputation to uphold, after all. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, of course I do," Prince James replied testily. "And I hope that _you_ understand that I expect discretion as well. My father has spent more than his fair share of the treasury on whores over the years but even he would object to such a large amount for only one night."

"Come now! What's a hundred pieces of gold between friends when it's going to fund such a noble cause?" Gaston winked conspiratorially and slapped the prince good-naturedly on the back. "But of course we fully understand your concerns. Discretion will be observed on both ends. As long as you give us no cause to do so, we will keep your involvement secret from wives, mistresses, mothers, or, as in your case, fathers."

"Excellent!" He gulped down the last of his wine and slammed the goblet down hard on the small table. "Now let's on get on with…"

"Rule number three," interrupted Gaston. The prince slumped back down in his chair, sighing, and gestured for the tall man to continue. "If at any time she orders you to stop…you _will_ stop. If you do something that upsets her, makes her uncomfortable or hurts her in any way, she has the right to put an end to your night together. So you had better listen. If she feels threatened she can and _will_ call on for help. And may the gods help you if the guards reach you before I do. They will not understand the situation and may act…rashly."

The prince vehemently glared at the former knight and dropped the friendly tone to his voice. "And if something were to ever happen to _me_, such as being accused of and punished for a heinous crime I did not commit, then it would not bode well for you…or your kingdom. Do I make _myself_ clear?"

"Crystal, your highness." Gaston smiled impishly and waved him forward. "Come. The night awaits."

The two men hopped up from their seats and the prince ran his hand through his short hair and once again undid his topmost buttons of his silk shirt. He was making his way back towards the bed when Gaston reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "Not here, your majesty. This way."

He gestured for the prince to follow him to the back of the room where a very large mahogany armoire took up most of the stone wall. Gaston easily heaved the heavy furniture aside a couple of feet and ran his hand almost lovingly over the masonry, his fingers dancing smoothly over the cool bricks.

Once he reached the fourth brick from the bottom, he pushed it in with his palm and quickly stepped back. The secret passage opened with a whoosh and the sudden change in air pressure made the flames from the wall sconces dance eerily on their wicks.

"These tunnels are centuries old," explained Gaston as he picked up a torch and slouched considerably in order to protect his head from the short ceiling. "Very few people are even aware of their existence. I believe they were once used as an emergency escape route for the royal family."

"I'm not exactly in the mood for a history lesson," grumbled the prince dryly. He hardly had to bend down at all in order to pass through the squat chasm. "Are all these theatrics really necessary? I mean, why can't she just come to my quarters and get it over with?"

"Remember rule number two, your highness? There is to be absolute discretion," Gaston barked sharply, casting the handsome young man a dark look over his shoulder. "No one, including the servants, is to know what is going on here. How would it look if you were seen sneaking around each other's quarters?"

The prince's reply was cut short as he quickly gripped the dark, damp wall for support. The floor had seemed to suddenly drop beneath him! An ancient stairwell curved down steeply and disappeared deep into darkness. He felt a pressing need to grab hold of the giant in front of him in case he lost his footing, but he managed to fight down the urge and kept his fidgety hands to himself. He still had his own reputation to uphold, after all, even in the deep bowels of a broken castle.

Several minutes and a few missed steps later, they finally arrived at a heavy wooden door, recently installed by the looks of the shiny metal hinges. His guide removed a wrought iron key from the chain around his neck and opened the hefty lock with ease.

Dozens of sconces decorated the walls, casting the room in gentle light as a mighty fire in the hearth fought the dampness of what must have been, at one point in time, a dark and gloomy dungeon. The sweet smell of floral perfume permeated the air, giving the illusion that they were near a luscious rose garden and not deep underground. The silks and riches that were lacking in the dreary upper castle were resplendent here! Scarlett and golden pillows littered every available surface while an enormous four poster bed was draped in several shades of blue.

But nothing could compare to the mesmerizing blue eyes that watched him from behind long, dark lashes. She was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen! Chestnut curls hung loosely down the back of a revealing, black lace nightgown that teased his senses. Her blood red lips curved up seductively as he smiled at her appreciatively.

He suddenly found the dungeon to be more than just _comfortably_ warm.

Gaston draped an arm around her thin waist and pulled the short goddess to his side. Picking up her left hand with his right, he brought them to his lips and gently kissed her delicate knuckles.

"Prince James, I would like to introduce you to Princess Belle…my wife."


	2. Chapter 2: A Golden Apple

**A/N – Thank you so much for giving this story a chance! I really appreciate it! **

**Just so you know, the pronunciation of the name of my original character, Cardinal Salir, is 'Sah-leer'. It's French for 'dirty' or 'foul.' As you can probably guess, I hate the clerics. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 2 – A Golden Apple**

**Two Years Later**

Belle raced down the East Wing's long hallway while doing her best to braid her unruly tresses into something halfway presentable. The bodice of her dress was knotted incorrectly, showing a bit too much flesh to be considered acceptable in respectful company; something that would have brought her to shame a couple of years ago, but now was only a mere inconvenience.

Her castle was no longer the bustling center it once was. In happier times she would have had to run and dodge past dozens of servants or soldiers busy at work, all while trying not to trip over the multitude of rugs that covered the floors. Now though, with only a skeleton crew left to keep the relatively empty castle running, she felt confident that no one would see her half dressed as she ran unencumbered down the bare halls.

She inwardly groaned as she caught sight of the rising sun shining through the passing windows and furiously tucked in the last few curls.

She was late again.

She could only hope that there would be food left this time.

The Great Hall was deserted when she reached the bottom most steps and for that she was quietly grateful. It provided her a private moment in which to check on her appearance in one of the castle's only remaining mirrors. As with the majority of the glass broken during the war, mirrors were a low priority in the reconstruction of the castle and only a few of its residents were fortunate enough to have one in their chambers.

"Oh, your highness!" said an exasperated, but kind voice coming from the direction of the kitchens. "Here, let me help you."

Natalie sat down a heavy cauldron nearly half the size of Belle and quickly wiped her sweaty palms on the clean, but badly frayed apron around her waist. She immediately went to work tucking and tying the ridiculous fabric that covered the princess's too thin frame. "I would chide you for displaying too much of your bosom, my lady, if you had one to speak of. I'm afraid you have lost another pound or two. This dress is simply far too large for you now."

"If only we could grow clothing the way we do food," Belle joked playfully as she smoothed away a few loose tendrils of hair. "I once read a book about a magical tree that produced garments instead of fruit! Wouldn't that be simply amazing?"

"Not really, my lady," Natalie replied with a wink. "With the way the crops have been growing around here lately we'd all be walking about naked!"

The two ladies giggled shamelessly until the grumbling of Belle's stomach reminded them both of their duties. "We'd best be off to breakfast before the men destroy what's left of this castle with their loud complaining. Let's have a quick look then."

Belle dutifully twirled for inspection in her ornate green dress and her longtime friend and servant nodded in approval. It was ridiculous to think that even during these hard times she was expected to look every bit the royal princess she was born to be, even if she only had as little to eat as the servants. Yet she was a symbol of hope for her nation, the supposed Beauty of Avonlea, and they did have an important guest visiting them at the moment that required her to keep up appearances.

"You have a bit of color in your cheeks this morning," the maid noted approvingly then frowned in concern. "You didn't run all the way from your chambers, did you?"

Belle blushed furiously and looked down to fiddle with a small hole in the sleeve near her wrist. "Yes, I must have overslept again. I'm afraid I lost track of the hour last night." She looked around uncertainly and lowered her voice. The castle may have been lacking in hands but it still had an excess of ears. "You know me and my reading…"

Natalie reached her arms around the petite princess and hugged her fiercely. "No need to apologize, Belle," she whispered. "I understand."

Belle nodded in silent thanks and picked up one end of the heavy cauldron. Natalie hoisted the other and together they quickly made their way down the deserted corridor. The double doors that led to the dining hall were unfortunately closed, indicating that breakfast had already begun.

The doors creaked painfully loud as Natalie pushed it open with her hip and a dozen bottoms swiveled in their seats to stare at the late arrivals. So much for quietly sneaking in, Belle thought glumly.

"Ah! And here is our wayward Princess now," King Maurice said buoyantly, raising his glass of mead in salute. No matter how little they had, the King somehow always managed to have a supply of alcohol nearby. "Late as usual, I see."

As expected, what little rolls and fruit they had were already gone, leaving her with only whatever was in the pot she had helped to carry. Belle kissed her Papa affectionately on his blotchy cheek in greeting and nodded respectfully to the rest of the men seated around the long rectangular table. Her eyes instantly noted their guest's chair at the far opposite end from her father and she heaved a sigh, relieved at its emptiness.

Gaston immediately rose from his seat at her father's right hand and brought her knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss. "Hello, Belle," he said quietly. "How are you this morning?"

"A bit tired," she responded carefully while steadily keeping her husband's gaze. "I'm afraid I didn't sleep very well last night."

His brow creased as he nodded in understanding at their secret code and gently squeezed her hand in sympathy. He forced a slight smile to his lips and respectfully held out her chair. "Well, then, I expect you to take it easy today and rest. There is no need for you to accompany us to the docks to see our guest off. I will send him your regards."

She sighed quietly in relief and smiled gratefully in his direction. "Thank you. I believe I will rest for a bit."

"How nice it must be for you, my lady, to lead such a life of leisure!" said the oily voice of Cardinal Salir with thinly veiled contempt. "I can't remember the last time I was given the opportunity to _nap_ during the day."

Belle bristled at the cleric's words but otherwise showed no emotion at the jab. She had never gotten along with the older man but he was her late mother's cousin as well as the head of the major religion practiced within the Marshlands. There seemed to be no avoiding the High Cleric.

"You have my sympathies then, Cardinal. I'm sure condemning peasants to eternal damnation over minor sins can be quite taxing, especially at your age," she said flippantly. Gaston snorted into his weak tea and Maurice sent her a warning look. She held her hands together tightly to hide the fact that they were now shaking in her anger. "Tell me, Cardinal, when was the last time you spent a day helping your charges sow the fields or rebuild a damaged house?"

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand, _Highness_," the cleric spat disdainfully. "I have done my best to shelter you from the evils of this world so that you would not have to witness them first hand. But if it weren't for me and my followers, then this kingdom would be in even more dire straits than it already is. You may worry about feeding their bellies all you want, but it is far more important to nourish their souls."

Belle felt her face flush heatedly. He had always managed to get under her skin and her grumbling stomach seemed to be exacerbating the boiling rage she was currently feeling in her belly. "You feed into their fears and prejudices! If you truly wanted to save their souls then you would be preaching forgiveness and cooperation and not these righteous rules!"

"That is enough!" bellowed the King, putting an end to the bickering. He pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned tiredly. "It is far too early for another one of these pointless debates. Salir, you know that my dear princess is a delicate flower and shouldn't overexert herself needlessly. And Belle, darling, I'm sure you understand that the Cardinal's guidance has been invaluable to our people, especially since the invasion began. Now let's all get along before any harsh words reach our guest's ears. Speaking of which," he continued, pointing to the empty seat, "I'm sure King Robert is used to having breakfast brought to him in his chambers. You'll take care of it, Natalie?"

"Of course, your Majesty," she replied, curtsying slightly. "The cook managed to round up some eggs and the best of our fruit for him. I'm afraid it's porridge for the rest of us."

Low grumblings erupted around the table as Natalie dumped a carefully measured ladle full of lumpy oatmeal into each of their bowls; enough to stave off starvation but never enough to fully sate their hunger.

"Well, I have some good news to share, your Majesty," announced Gaston loudly to the group. "After a long and frank discussion with our guest last night, I have managed to convince King Robert to donate to our relief efforts. A hundred pieces of gold!"

The change in mood was instantaneous as the men seemed to wake out of their early morning daze. The promise of food in the coming weeks was enough to crack a smile from even the most somber lips.

"That is fantastic news, my boy!" Maurice slapped Gaston on the back loudly, causing him to choke on his breakfast. "Words cannot properly express how proud I am of you. You have a gift, son. Over the last two years you have somehow managed to sweet talk almost every noble in the Enchanted Forest into helping us out financially." The King stood up and raised his drink in salute. "This young man in front of us is such an incredible negotiator I would not doubt that he could convince a mermaid into eating flounder! Here, here!"

Belle raised her tea and daintily clinked it against her husband's cup. She didn't begrudge him his moment. He did, after all, have the daunting task of secretly convincing the wealthy that a night with her was worth the steep price.

It was better this way.

No one could ever find out that her role in the fundraising was more than simply being the supportive, dutiful wife. Cardinal Salir wouldn't hesitate to publicly declare her as a whore and a sinner should the truth come out. And he would no doubt take great pleasure in doing far worse if he knew that Belle herself had come up with the idea of trading her body for aid.

It wouldn't matter how many lives she had helped to save; Salir would hide behind his mask of righteousness and condemn her for wickedness.

"I believe we now have enough gold to hire a ship large enough to transport some livestock as well as the usual supplies," Gaston continued confidently, relaying the details that she herself had worked out for him. "I don't know about you, but I for one would love to be eating meat again! We could also have the ship export out any of our people's merchandise to sell to the other territories. The sooner we get our economy going again the sooner our citizens can start to support themselves."

"Bless you, my boy," said Maurice. He refilled his tankard of mead and drank from it deeply. "For some reason I've never had much of a head for numbers. Things have improved immensely since you offered to take over the Kingdom's finances. Arranging for you to marry my Belle has proven to be the best decision I've ever made!"

Gaston smiled politely at his father-in-law but Belle clearly saw the brief note of sadness that flickered through her husband's eyes. She covertly reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it gently in solidarity.

They may have been forced to marry out of duty, but they would always be friends by choice.

~8~8~8~

Belle slept fitfully in her personal chambers for the majority of the morning, getting up only to use her chamber pot and wincing at the painful sting as she passed her water.

Despite her exhaustion, deep sleep continued to elude her. By the time the sun had reached its zenith, she had given up on resting altogether and chose instead to catch up on the Kingdom's finances for Gaston to present to her father.

The council had refused to accept any type of bookkeeping from Belle, believing that as a woman she lacked the necessary intelligence to add and subtract simple amounts. Unfortunately, her father was usually too inebriated to count his own fingers and the kingdom had suffered greatly due to his addiction and their prejudices.

Sitting up in her bed, a small plank of wood lying overtop of the cushion that covered her lap, she scrawled notes into her ledgers and jotted down a list of supplies to purchase. Bookkeeping was a task that she had taken upon only because of necessity but it was one she had soon learned to enjoy for its simplicity and honesty.

There was never any betrayal in the numbers. Math never lied or carried its own agenda.

A brisk knock at the door a little after midday interrupted her musings. Gaston walked in after she granted him entrance and sat down on the bed next to her. He picked up one of her scrolls and frowned at it quizzically. "How do you read this thing?"

"You have it sideways," she chortled, turning it around. "It's a chart that keeps track of our coffers."

"It looks like jagged mountains," he said dryly.

"That's because we spend it as soon as we get it. If our crops ever start growing you'll see that chart start to level off." She rolled it up carefully and looked at him furtively. "So…is he gone?"

"Yes. The ship sailed off about half an hour ago." He placed his fingers under her chin and gently lifted it to look deep into her cerulean eyes. "So…how are you _really_ feeling?"

"A bit sore," she confessed quietly. "King Robert has…unusual tastes."

"Did he hurt you?" he asked worriedly, rubbing his other thumb over her knuckles.

"Not purposely. I'll be fine, truly. And like you said at breakfast, we're in desperate need of his gold right now." She reached for her shopping list and handed it to him. "I have calculated that we have just enough to feed everyone in the Marshlands for three weeks, unless the grain merchants have raised their prices on us again. I'm sure morale will increase somewhat with full bellies and hopefully an increase in productivity will follow." She thought of the magical tree from her story and sighed wistfully. "If only our crops could magically grow overnight, then we could feed everyone easily and use the gold for medicine and blankets. Before we know it, winter will be upon us again and we barely made it through the last one."

"That's one of the reasons why I came." Gaston cleared his throat awkwardly and looked at her beseechingly. "Belle, I…I want you to seriously reconsider King Midas. He will be passing through our lands in a fortnight."

Belle closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. They had touched on this topic again and again over the past few months, but she was adamant. "He's Abigail's father, Gaston! I've known him most of my life…"

"But isn't that better than some stranger?" he interjected. "I'm sure he'll treat you kindly. Besides, King Robert is Prince Thomas's father and you had no objections with him."

"That's different. Thomas and I are almost a decade apart in ages. He and I did not grow up together as Abigail and I did. Besides, what if he accidentally touches me with that magical hand of his and I turn into a gold statue like poor Frederick? There's no more enchanted water left in that lake to cure me."

"Then I'll just have to melt you down and use the proceeds to feed the kingdom for years to come," he quipped sorrowfully. "Don't worry. He wears a metal glove to prevent that from happening." He picked up her hands and squeezed them tightly. "I'm really sorry Belle. It's your decision, of course, but we do _need_ him. We need a new _regular_ benefactor if we are to survive the coming season and most of the men I find are unable, either geographically or financially, to visit as often as we need. You know more than anyone how tight our purse strings have gotten since James stopped visiting. Marriage to Snow White has apparently agreed with him."

"I can't help but think there's more to that story than him simply falling in love," Belle scoffed. "He must have fallen off of his horse and hit his head for him to have had such a change in personality. I simply cannot see the James _I_ know overthrowing his own father and taking on Queen Regina. Especially for someone as kind hearted as Snow White! Prince James is many things…but kind is not one of them. He is the last person in the Enchanted Forest I ever pictured marrying for love."

Gaston studied her tired, vacant eyes for several seconds before suddenly reaching a long arm around her tiny waist and tickling her sides. He has known all of her ticklish spots since they were six years old and he, more than anyone, knows how to draw a smile from her lips whenever she fell into despair. "When did you become so jaded, Bookworm Belle?"

"Since I apparently missed out on the bread this morning," she laughed, swatting him away long enough to catch her breath. "I'm sorry. I suppose even I get cranky sometimes when I'm hungry enough. All I got was the overcooked porridge."

"Then I'm sure you will enjoy the surprise I have in store for you." His eyes crinkled playfully as he smiled and reached into his satchel. "Close your eyes."

She sent her partner a bemused look before moving her mountain of ledgers and contracts aside and shifted to face him. It had been far too long since she saw her childhood friend smile so readily that she couldn't resist returning it. They've had very little to smile about over the last few years.

Belle obediently closed her eyes and tried to guess what it was he had in store for her. A roll, perhaps? Or a slice of goat cheese? Her mouth instantly watered in anticipation! It was a rare treat indeed to have a midday meal anymore.

She sensed rather than heard an object being placed in front of her and she instinctively leaned in closer. "Smell," he whispered.

"Oh my gods!" she cried, her eyes instantly opening once her senses had identified the heavenly scent. "Are these real?"

"A gift from King Robert," he replied as he picked up a luscious strawberry and wafted it tantalizingly in front of her lips, "as a token for the Princess's generous _hospitality_. He had the chef from his ship put together a plate for you with his apologies that he could not have presented them in person. He understands that you are quite…delicate…and require your beauty sleep."

"Hmph!" she snorted as her mouth was filled with the blissful juices of the rare fruit. "He certainly didn't seem to care about how delicate I was last night."

Gaston's face instantly crumpled in pain. He cast his eyes downward and began rearranging the selection of fruit and cheese in the leather pouch in his lap.

"Oh, Gaston!" she exclaimed guiltily. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to let that slip."

"I'm so, so sorry, Belle," he whispered, still avoiding her eyes. "What I wouldn't give for things to be different. You deserve so much more than what this life has given you. You are by far the bravest person I have ever met and no man is worthy of you."

Belle shifted uncomfortably under his contrite gaze. She knew Gaston's pride ran deep and this arrangement was beginning to take its toll on him as well. Playing the disheartening role of her "handler" for the past two years was weighing heavily on his soul. Choosing a glossy, yellow apple from the sac, she tossed it in his direction. "Share my lunch with me?" she asked kindly.

He rolled the apple around in his hands, brought it to his nose and inhaled its tart, crisp scent. Temptation danced tantalizingly in his brown eyes but he determinedly handed the precious food back to his wife. "Thank you, but no. Eat. It will probably be months before you see such quality fruit again so enjoy them while you can." He slung his satchel over his chest and stood up from the bed. "Shall I send for Natalie to draw you a bath or fetch you a hot water bottle?"

"No, I can manage on my own. Besides, she is burdened with more work than she can handle already."

"She worries about you, you know. We _both_ do." He leaned down and gave her a brotherly kiss on her cheek. "Get some rest. Lord Nelson has just sent a messenger to inform us that he has decided to revisit our lands personally to 'assess our need for aid.' He is due to arrive in two days' time."

Belle was quickly torn between anticipation and repulsion; anticipation because more gold meant more supplies for the coming weeks and repulsion because…well…Lord Nelson had not been the most _hygienic_ person she had ever met. Last time it had been days before she could completely get the smell of him out of her pores!

In the end, though, the sound of her husband's stomach rumbling ended her internal debate.

Beggars can't be choosers, after all. The needs of her people far exceeded her own discomfort. She would just have to ask Natalie to have a nice, hot bath waiting for him in his quarters and hope that he would take advantage of it before going down to see her.

"All right. Let's hold out on the ship until _after_ Nelson pays you the gold so that we can buy more supplies at once. I'll have the revised purchase list ready for you to present to Papa by tomorrow."

"There's no rush, Belle." He fluffed the mound of pillows behind her and carefully tucked her worn afghan around her waist. "Rest for today. And eat."

The enticing aroma of fresh food pulled her attention back to the precious bounty currently sitting in her lap. She emulated her husband's earlier actions by bringing the apple to her nose to take in its tart tang, thoroughly enjoying this simple, forgotten luxury. The unblemished, yellow flesh shone brightly in the afternoon sunlight, giving the illusion that the orb in her hand was made of solid gold instead of mere fruit.

An apple made of gold. If only that were possible! The amount of food she could purchase for her people with just a single golden apple…

The ingenious plan was almost completely formed in her head before Gaston had even reached the door. "You're right," she called out to him softly.

His hand hesitated on the doorknob and he turned around to face her, frowning quizzically. "About what, Belle?"

"We need a new, _generous_ patron if our people are to survive the winter. Do your best to charm King Midas into paying for a night. I have an idea."

* * *

**A/N – So Gaston isn't the heartless pimp that he appeared to be from James's POV in the prologue! Surprised? Let me know what you think!**

**Next Chapter – Belle gets more than just gold from Midas. She gets a very powerful name! **


	3. Chapter 3: The Golden Touch

**A/N – I realize that many of you will probably be cringing at the beginning of this chapter but don't worry! I kept my promise and didn't write Belle doing anything we don't want her doing. It all builds up to something. Trust me!**

* * *

**Chapter 3 – The Golden Touch**

Belle readjusted her black lace nightgown around her waist and pulled it down as much as possible from her sitting position. The intricate lace did not leave much to the imagination, but after their recent activities there wasn't anything he hadn't already seen. She let the thin shoulder strap hang loosely down her forearm, allowing a generous amount of cleavage to peek through while still maintaining her dignity.

"Could I tempt you into another glass of wine, your highness?" her lilting voice purred seductively as she carefully reached over him for the bottle.

"Oh, my beautiful Belle. You could tempt me into doing many, _many_ things." He took the bottle from her and began to nuzzle her neck, his short mustache and beard making her twitch. "But I think I must forgo any more wine. And just for tonight, you may call me Midas. I believe you've earned the right."

The smile frozen on her face belied the disappointment she felt at the refusal for a drink. It was not the first time she had plied her guests with alcohol to get them too drowsy to continue the otherwise more…physical aspects of their night together, particularly with the older men.

"Well, I hope you don't mind if I partake in some then. I am absolutely parched thanks to you!" she said with a mischievous wink. She reclaimed the bottle and brought it to her lips. Tossing her head back, she pretended to drink deeply while using her tongue to stop the flow of wine.

There was once a time when she had welcomed the numbing sensation that alcohol had brought her. She thought it would give her the courage she needed to do what needed to be done. She had discovered, however, that it could prove too dangerous to have her senses inhibited, even slightly. She wanted to always be the one in control, no matter what her guests chose to believe.

She ran a dainty finger across her heavily rouged lip to collect a stray drop of wine and licked the tip. His gaze lingered on her puckered mouth and his eyes quickly darkened in desire. That was a fire she would need to diffuse quickly! Picturing the simpering ladies of their former court in her head, she giggled foolishly and brought the bottle to his mouth, encouraging him to drink.

The one blessing about being poor was that she no longer had to put up with drunken courtesans throwing themselves at her father, all hoping for the chance to be Queen or to someday bear him a son. At least their blatant flirting had unwittingly provided her with an enlightening education.

It was time to put that education to good use.

"How about a game, Midas?" she asked playfully.

"A drinking game?" he asked, downing more of the wine.

"If you wish," she replied thoughtfully. "But I was thinking of something a bit more …motivating!"

Belle rose from the feather bed and slowly made her way across the silk-lined walls, sensuously swaying her hips back and forth as she walked. She cocked her head over her right shoulder to look back at her guest while biting her lower lip seductively. She had quickly learned that nibbling on her lips drove men wild for some odd reason, and Midas was clearly no exception.

He whistled wolfishly and she giggled dutifully in response. Once her face was again facing away from him, however, she was rolling her eyes in exasperation. Just a few more hours until dawn, she reminded herself. Hopefully her plan would work!

There was very little in the way of furniture in the secret, underground room since there had only been Gaston and Natalie to help carry everything down the dark, ancient stairway. Besides the bed and a small bookcase that was carefully hidden behind the precious silk wall dividers, there was an old weathered chest. Normally it only held a set or two of spare sheets and a change of clothes that Belle would use after a visit from a patron, but tonight it held something extra.

"What is that you have there, my dear?" he asked huskily.

"A deck of cards. I trust you've seen them before?" she asked teasingly.

"Cards?" he asked, confused. "I have paid your husband handsomely for this night and you wish to play _cards_?"

"I wish to play a game of chance, Midas. One with very…interesting stakes." She expertly shuffled the cards and quickly doled them out on the sheets between them. She winked impishly as she picked up her cards and held them just below her cleavage. "Are you familiar with the rules of Stars and Moons?"

"Of course I am," he replied stubbornly. "But why would I possibly want to play _that_ right now?"

"Because for every hand you win…." She leaned over and whispered the desirable prize into his ear. His sharp intake of breath let her know that she now had his full attention. He cleared his throat loudly and shifted in his seat.

"And if-if you win?" he stammered hotly.

"Hmmmm." She sat back down and worried her lower lip as she pretended to come up with a suitable response. In reality, she had been thinking of this moment since Gaston had first broached the subject of contacting Midas. "If I win…you need to show me how that magical finger of yours works. I want you to turn something into gold for me."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather I ravish your body instead?" he whispered longingly. "The things that I could do to you…."

She cast her eyes downward and forced a shy smile on her lips despite the taste of bile rising in her throat. "We have all night for that, Midas. It's just…I'm nothing but a lonely princess from a poor kingdom who has not once left this corner of the Enchanted Forest. I've never seen the wonders of the world or witnessed the miracles of magic. I've only read about them in my books." She picked up his good hand and cradled it tenderly against her face. She didn't even have to fake the wistful tone her voice had turned. "Just this once I'd like to see something remarkable with my own eyes, something to help me cope with all the hardships I now face. Please? For me?"

He smiled at her indulgently and flicked the tip of her nose with his finger. "All right, my dear. But only if I can be bested, mind you. You must _earn_ your trinkets."

King Maurice had always insisted that Midas was good man, despite the fact that he had ignored the Marshlands call for aid two years ago. His duty was to his own people and her father had accepted his reasoning.

Belle had been far less understanding, especially after the considerable losses they had sustained by going up against the ogres on their own. But they had prevailed.

And now the children and widows of the Marshlands went to bed each night under leaky roofs with stomachs rumbling, while their beloved princess secretly prostituted herself out to her father's supposed friends just to keep them alive another day.

In her mind, she and her people had more than earned a few trinkets from an ally who could magically turn any substance into gold with just the touch of a finger, but simply chose not to because it hadn't been convenient for him.

Tonight was time to collect.

Stars and Moons was a card game that had quickly gained popularity during the war, particularly with soldiers, since the games were relatively short and didn't require a great deal of strategy. Belle had picked it up fairly quickly when she had been assisting the healers in the infirmaries and overtime had developed quite a knack for it.

Once cards were played, they were discarded to the side instead of being re-inserted into the deck. It was a simple matter for Belle to come up with a system to keep track of which cards had already been dealt and accurately guess which were most likely to be coming up next.

"_It's not cheating. It's not cheating,"_ she reminded herself, trying to reason with the small, nagging voice roughly tugging on her conscience._ "There's nothing in the rules against paying close attention and counting the cards. He could do it himself if he were clever enough to think of it._"

Several minutes later, Belle played the final Sorceress card with a flourish. She clapped her hands happily while Midas frowned, as if he couldn't understand how he had lost, especially to a woman.

She wiggled her eyebrows playfully and raised her head up high. "Beginner's luck, I suppose."

"Best two out of three," he demanded petulantly.

"Of course we can play again, your majesty, if you wish. But remember our wager? The prizes are for every hand. Now let's find something to turn into gold, shall we?"

She peeked around the dark, dank room as she pondered what to choose. She had purposely removed any small objects, such as feathers, candlesticks or even loose threads of linen earlier in the day so that there would be very little to choose from.

That left the long, silky sheets that covered the gloomy walls, the wooden chest and the enormous four post bed with its plethora of goose down pillows. Smiling tightly, she picked up the fluffiest pillow she could find and proudly presented it to the king. "How about something insignificant like this?" she asked innocently.

Completely packed with the softest feathers the Marshlands had available, the pillow weighed but a few scant ounces. Once it was turned into the precious substance, however, its soft interior would transform into solid gold and possibly weigh more than Belle could carry. It would be worth a small fortune, one that could be used to feed her entire kingdom for most of the coming winter!

Midas must have been thinking along the same lines since he shrewdly searched the sparse room for an alternative. His drunken gaze finally landed on the bottle of wine and he reached for it greedily.

"Why thank you, your highness!" she exclaimed, quickly taking the bottle from him. "I would love to have another drink. I think the wine is beginning to go to my head though. The cards are beginning to look a bit fuzzy." She pretended to take a deep swig and thrust the pillow into his lap, ending the conversation before it even began. "I think your chances of winning the next hand are improving with every sip."

He sighed resignedly and held up the metal glove that magically protected his right hand. The firelight danced across its metallic surface, giving the illusion that the covering itself was made of gold. Belle stared entranced at its glowing surface for several seconds before Midas cleared his throat loudly and cocked his head at his enshrouded hand.

She belatedly understood that he expected her to remove it for him as if she were one of his many servants. Since he had paid Gaston an exorbitant amount for her services tonight she supposed she could forgive the slight.

"Is it safe?" she asked curiously, her nimble fingers hesitating ever so slightly above the glove. While she would gladly give her life to feed her people, she would rather live to see their bellies full with her own eyes.

"Do not fret, my dear," he whispered soothingly, mistaking her hesitation for fear. His eyes slowly travelled over her lace covered form as though he were trying to commit the details to memory. "Should the worst happen, you will be given a place of honor in my trophy room between the golden Chimera and the dragon's head." He failed to notice her less than positive reaction to the news that she would be put on display like some…some…trinket! He reached towards her with his good hand and gently tucked a loosed tendril of chestnut hair behind her ear. "Or maybe you could be used to brighten up my bed chambers. Unlike your husband, I don't think I would be too willing to share something so beautiful with just anybody."

The worst part of this new life she found herself in was that she was constantly being forced to placate her guests, no matter what idiotic or indecent thought escaped their mouths. Taking a deep calming breath to slake her rising anger, she forced the edges of her lips up to grin at him, even though every nerve in her body ached to slap his royal face.

She carefully grasped the cool metal with both hands and lifted the glove straight up, taking great care not to touch the strangely glowing skin hidden underneath. It simply radiated power! It was like nothing Belle had ever seen or read about in her books. It wasn't as though his hand was on fire. No, it was more like it shone with the power of the sun, pulsating light across the dark room. She held her own hand up parallel to his and brought it as close as she dared without touching it.

The golden hand did not emit any heat, although it looked as though it would scald her skin if she came into contact with it. Midas seemed almost bored with the whole proceeding, having lived with this gift since before Belle was born. How he had managed not to accidentally turn himself into gold after all these years was simply astonishing!

She gently placed the cushion onto the sheets between them and, for safety's sake, removed herself from the bed to kneel on the floor. The pulsating finger had barely grazed the soft silk before the entire pillow was turned into solid gold!

"That is remarkable," she whispered. She studied the newly transformed object, poking and prodding it and peppering the king with dozens of questions, with the keen, intellectual interest that her tutors from long ago had found more frustrating than endearing. Apparently Midas thought along the same lines. When she noticed his patience was beginning to wane she wisely brought her inquisition to an end with one final, burning question. "How did you come to have this ability, your Majesty?"

His abrupt bark of laughter reverberated mockingly across the dark room, catching the beauty off guard. It wasn't a particularly pleasant sound but she refused to allow her fear to dictate her actions.

"And what, may I ask, is so funny?" she asked bravely.

"You are, my pet," he slurred and took another drink, frowning mournfully when he discovered the bottle was now empty. "My own council does not know of its origins. So why would I tell you, an insignificant woman?"

Belle fought the urge to roll her eyes with all of her might. Now was not the time to get riled up. She needed to be calm, cool and collected. Carefully reaching underneath the bed, she slowly slid out an unopened bottle of wine and waved it teasingly in front of him. "If I am so insignificant then there can't be any reason _not_ to tell me!" she reasoned confidently, enjoying the way his eyes followed the bottle's movement. "What's the harm?"

Midas reached for the wine but she provocatively pulled it away just beyond his reach. "I do believe a story is in order, your Majesty."

A very un-royal whimper escaped his lips when she again moved the bottle beyond his reach. His unsteady gaze revealed just how inebriated he had become over the last half hour, something that she fully intended to use to her advantage.

"There is a wizard," he whispered reluctantly. "A powerful wizard who will grant even the most unholy request…but all magic comes with a price. His services do not come cheap. Trust me, princess. You cannot afford such a gift."

"And who this man?" she asked carefully. Surely someone as powerful as he would be known even in her back-water kingdom!

Midas's glassy eyes never wavered from the alcohol and he licked his parched lips like a man dying of thirst. "The Dark One."

Belle released the breath she had been holding in one big, exasperated huff. She thrust the bottle into his good hand and stood up with her hands on her hips. "If you won't tell me then just say so!" she fumed. "There's no need to try to scare me with children's tales. You might as well tell me you got it from the Boogeyman!"

Midas used his teeth to remove the stopper and spat it on the floor. "Children's tales? My, you _have_ been sheltered, haven't you?" He took a long swig and shook his head sadly. "The Dark One is indeed real and not one to be called upon frivolously."

While her guest continued to poison his liver, she sat in silence, contemplating this new information and trying to recall every bedtime story she had ever heard. Her governesses were always quick to warn her that the Dark One would snatch her from her bed if she didn't behave or eat her vegetables. She had always dismissed the tales of the demon as pure nonsense, just a figment of someone's wild imagination to ensure a child's obedience.

Could there _really_ be some truth to the rumors?

"No. If such a powerful creature truly existed then the war council would have called for his help when the Ogres attacked!" she finally said. "We would have paid any price to stop the massacre of our people!"

Midas's eyes had finally begun to droop and he laid back on the mountain of cushions to keep himself from tumbling off the bed. "Maurice knows all about him," he mumbled drowsily. "_Has_ known for years. Too dangerous, he said. Didn't want to risk inviting his wickedness to your lands."

"You mean Cardinal Salir wouldn't allow it," she whispered dejectedly to herself, the pieces slowly falling into place. Of course her father would have summoned the magician, had the council allowed it. And while Salir may have been the only cleric on the committee, his voice was loudest and hardest to ignore. He held sway over the others and pushed his own agenda at every turn.

Well, she had gone behind Salir's back to save her people before. She wasn't about to shy away now. Leaning over Midas's drowsy form, she lightly tapped his cheek to rouse him from his drunken slumber. With the amount of alcohol he had consumed she doubted very much that he would remember this conversation in the morning.

"Your Majesty," she crooned into his ear. "Please, Midas. I need to know. What is the Dark One's _name_?"

He whimpered in his sleep, throwing his head from side to side, as though he feared the Dark One would suddenly appear and punish him for revealing this secret. She soothed his protests by quietly shushing his moans and running her fingers through his curly hair, as she would a frightened child having a nightmare.

His whimpers eventually tapered off until the only sounds were of his even breathing and she dared ask her question again. "Rumplestiltskin," he quietly muttered.

Rumplestiltskin?

What an unusual name, she thought. But then, a sorcerer as powerful as the Dark One would need an equally powerful name. It would have been a bit anticlimactic had his name been common, like John or William.

She had absolutely no idea how to summon him, but that was all right. She had a name to go with the legend now. One often finds that a name is all one needs.

Midas was now snoozing peacefully, with about three hours still to go until dawn and their time together came to an end. Smiling in satisfaction at her good fortune tonight, she kindly covered the king with a warm blanket and put on her robe.

The climb up the ancient stairway was treacherous and slow as she struggled to carry the heavy golden pillow. After nearly dropping it three times, she finally arrived at her destination, a little short of breath but in otherwise good spirits. This particular secret door led, not to Midas's chambers, nor to her own, but to Gaston's.

Belle felt mildly guilty for sneaking in uninvited at this early hour, but she needed to discuss this possible new development with someone. After awkwardly using her elbow to activate the secret latch, she winced at the loud screech of the door's rusty innards and prayed that the sound didn't carry down the halls.

She also fervently hoped that her friends were, in fact, _sleeping_. It would be mortifying to interrupt them in the act of making love!

"Belle? Belle, is that you?" Gaston called out groggily. The dim light near his bed grew brighter as he quickly fumbled with the lantern. The shadows played havoc on his otherwise handsome face, making him seem at least ten years older. "Are you all right? I never heard your alarm! Are you hurt?"

"Shhh! I never sounded the alarm. I'm fine, Gaston, really," she whispered. "Please, I don't wish to wake Natalie."

"Hmmm? Don't worry about me," mumbled the equally groggy figure stirring next to him, her arm still lovingly draped around his trim waist. "We never sleep soundly when you're with a guest. We worry too much we'll miss a call for help. What has happened?"

"Good fortune for once, that's what!" She heaved the precious bounty onto the foot of their bed and climbed onto the end. "Look! It's completely solid and as heavy as a boulder! Midas did it with his magic."

"I've never seen so much gold before," Natalie whispered, completely in awe of the wealth currently at her feet. "Why, it's a veritable fortune!"

"And Midas himself?" Gaston asked cautiously, looking over at the hidden entrance. "Where is he?"

"Passed out downstairs," she assured him. "If he's anything like Papa when he drinks then he'll stay that way for a few hours yet. I'm not sure how much he'll remember so I wanted to hide the pillow, just in case he insists on taking it with him."

"This is truly wonderful, Belle," he said, shooting her one of his rare smiles. She could literally see some of the heavy weight of their unimaginable burden lift from his shoulders. "We have a fighting chance now. Think of how many children will survive the winter! I'll have it melted down immediately and begin preparations to sail in more supplies."

"Actually," Belle interrupted quickly, before she lost her nerve, "I have new plans for this treasure. If all goes to plan, we will never have to rely on other kingdoms ever again, at least for crops."

"I don't understand," he confessed warily. "How are we going to accomplish that?"

"Easy. I'm going to trade it to the Dark One in exchange for making our lands fertile again. I just hope that Rumplestiltskin likes gold as much as the next man."

* * *

**Next Chapter – The Dark One is summoned!**


	4. Chapter 4: Valuable VS Expensive

**Chapter 4 – Valuable VS Expensive **

The day following Midas's drunken generosity was spent in a flurry of activity for Belle. Despite not having slept in over 24 hours, she was a veritable fountain of energy and could barely contain her excitement.

She wanted to dive immediately into her research on the Dark One, but was gently reminded by Natalie that she was expected to attend breakfast and perform her regular duties as usual. It was important to keep up appearances, especially since it would look suspicious if she shirked her responsibilities every time the castle had an important guest visiting. So after ensuring that the golden pillow was safely hidden away in Gaston's chambers, she reluctantly went back down to the secret room to wake her sleepy guest and prepare for her day.

She scrubbed the dark make-up off her face, immediately feeling more like herself and not like some slag. But while her mind was jumping and rearing to go, her face told another story. The late night clearly showed in her puffy eyes and sallow complexion. Even in her father's most inebriated state, he would notice that something was amiss and inquire publicly to the reason.

She vigorously rubbed a mixture of goat's milk and honey into her skin to add moisture and circulation then carefully styled her hair so that it framed her heart shaped face while keeping the wavy tresses out of her eyes. She took care in choosing the right dress, deciding to go with a velvet gown dyed the deep color of purple grapes. It was not a color that she normally favored, but for today the bright color would draw attention away from her fatigue.

The finished look was far from perfect but should be enough to fool the men. Most of them towered over the petite princess anyway and had a better chance of seeing down the front of her bodice than her face.

She wasn't sure if that thought was a comforting one or not.

Nothing could put a damper on her good mood at breakfast though, not even the way the misogynistic Cardinal Salir droned on about a neighboring kingdom that foolishly allows their queen to rule without a husband. She even allowed herself the indulgence of enjoying the way the green-tinged Midas cringed every time Maurice buoyantly referred to Belle as being his 'little girl' and had to stifle her laugh when he eventually had to excuse himself for fear of being sick at the table.

It wasn't until a little after midday that Belle was finally able to dedicate her time to the library. She had spent the morning helping to inventory their meager supplies and made arrangements for what little they had to be dispersed among the outlying villages. It had been easier to allocate supplies when all the survivors had been camped out in Avonlea, the location of the final battle against the ogres and the only town in the kingdom that had not fallen. But her people had wanted to return to their own homes to rebuild and work the lands. She could not fault them for that decision and fervently hoped that all their hard work would finally come to fruition…quite literally! But that could only happen if she managed to succeed in her task.

Belle had forgone with the frivolous velvet gown the moment she was out of the public's eye and exchanged it for a much more prudent blue wool dress that was more suited for the drafty library. It pained her to see the damages done to her precious books over the last few seasons, when the castle had simply not had the funds to heat the extensive library to chase away the moisture. Spines had begun to warp, covers deteriorated and the unmistakable smell of damp permeated the precious pages.

Undaunted, she poured over the old, worn tomes for hours, desperately searching for any mention of the Dark One or Rumplestiltskin.

It wasn't until late into the evening, when her exhaustion was finally starting to overcome her will that she realized, for the first time in her life, her library was failing her. There simply was no mention of any dark wizard, or even magic for that matter, anywhere.

"Belle, you've been at this for hours now," said Natalie's concerned voice behind her. "Please rest. You're practically falling asleep in your books. You can always begin your search again tomorrow." She carefully set down a silver tea set and a hearty slice of bread with cheese in front of her and ordered the princess to eat.

"You were missed at supper," added Gaston as he came around the bookshelf behind Natalie. "I covered for you, of course, but I could tell your father was not too pleased. Midas has announced his departure for first thing in the morning."

"But I thought he was staying the entire week," Belle replied disappointedly, speaking with her mouth full of bread in a very un-royal-like fashion. "I was counting on him paying for at least one more night, if not more! What changed his mind?"

"He claimed to have received a message from Princess Abigail, requesting that he return to their Kingdom immediately for some private matter. I can tell you with utmost certainty that no messenger arrived."

"But he will return again in a month's time, yes?"

Gaston looked down and ran his fingers across the cracks in the weathered wooden table. "No," he replied simply. "He will not be returning."

"Does he remember the incident with the golden pillow?" she asked, frowning in concern.

"Actually, he claims to remember very little of the night whatsoever. He doesn't feel it was worth the expense."

"For someone with unlimited wealth at his disposal, he is quite stingy, isn't he?" stated Belle as she poured herself some tea. "That's unfortunate. I'm afraid this means you'll have to continue your search for a new regular benefactor."

Gaston banged his fist onto the table in frustration, causing the tea service to rattle. Natalie reached out and gently ran her hand over his back to soothe him. "There _is_ no one else, Belle! Don't you understand? We've gone through _everyone_! Midas was the bottom of the barrel!"

"Then you will just have to find a new barrel," she replied emotionlessly.

Gaston glared at his wife in frustration for several seconds before stalking out of the library. The force with which he slammed the heavy oak doors reverberated across the large room and caused the tea to gently slosh around in her cup.

"I realize you're both tired, milady," said Natalie softly as she cleaned up the spilled liquid. "But please don't be hard on him. You must realize that a part of him dies inside every time he sells you. You made a small fortune in gold last night. Why can't that be enough?"

"It will never be enough, Natalie." Belle ran the edges of her palms over her weary eyes and gave into her exhaustion. "I know it might be difficult to understand but there will _always_ be something else that needs doing. Even if our crops were enough to feed us all, we would still need to rely on the other kingdoms for a while. Livestock is an excellent example, and not just because of the meat. Without sheep, we have no wool. Without wool, we can't spin. Without spinning, we can't make warm clothes and blankets. We need medicines and tonics. We need to rebuild the roads so that our people can travel to sell their wares. We need woodcutters to chop enough trees to keep us all warm, to repair the homes and re-open the schools. We need to get the mills up and running again to process what little wheat we have into flour….the list goes on and on. We are barely surviving right now. Is it wrong to want to make the lives of my people just a little bit better?"

"It's not your responsibility to take it all on yourself, Belle."

"If I don't, then who will?" she asked softly. "That's why we need Rumplestiltskin. I want to at least give our people a _chance_. I owe them that much."

Natalie smiled sadly at her mistress and began to collect the discarded books strewn across the table. "Have you had any luck yet?"

"Unfortunately, no," she replied dejectedly. "There is not a single reference to magic in any of the texts! Magic is everywhere! One would think we would have at least one book on the subject."

"Well, perhaps they are all in the other library."

Belle froze over the paragraph she was skimming, a strange sense of dread bubbling in her belly. "What _other_ library?"

"The other room, milady. The one behind the hidden door." Natalie faltered at Belle's shocked expression and fidgeted uncomfortably. "You spend half your life in here, your highness. I just assumed that you, more than anyone, would be aware of its existence."

"Show me."

The two women made their way across the chamber, to the darkest area of the room. The dusty shelves blocked the natural sunlight that filtered through the large windows on the opposite side of the library, leaving only a few sconces on this end to light their way. Natalie carefully counted the alcoves as they passed them and eventually stopped in front of the thirteenth one from the door.

"It's similar to the passages that lead from the bedchambers. See that discolored stone there? Push it in to activate the latch."

Belle did not hesitate to press it and was relieved to hear the door slide smoothly open with little sound. Not that there was anyone else within library to hear it, but sounds carried farther than one liked across empty hallways. She was surprised by how easily the wall retracted, much like the hidden door in her own room. She had expected it to grind slowly open the way Gaston's had, since his door is rarely used. Someone other than Natalie must know of its existence and makes use of it regularly.

They each grabbed a lit torch and carefully made their way into the hidden room. It was quite narrow, extending only about ten feet away from the entrance. Its length, however, spanned the library's east wall, creating a long, dark chasm that comfortably fit a dozen bookshelves side by side, all packed with texts. The shelves themselves were coated with an inch of dust, except for a few spots that clearly showed which tomes had been pulled out recently. Hundreds of scrolls were packed into a massive glass-lined case and a few curious objects took up residence on pedestals blanketed with dust opposite the shelves.

"Look at the titles!" cried Belle happily as she ran her fingers across the spines to remove the dust. "_The Magical History of the Marshlands, Poisons and Their Antidotes, A Guide to Basic Potions_…where did all these books come from?"

"I'm not sure." Natalie withdrew a rag from her apron and carefully wiped the grime off a glass dome on one of the pedestals to peer at the object inside. "I discovered the room a few years ago and remember it being just as dirty."

"How did you come to find it," she asked the maid curiously. "The library was maintained by the docents before the war, not the maids."

Natalie turned a bright shade of pink and cleared her throat awkwardly. "It was by accident, milady. Back then, there were hundreds of people in the castle at all hours and it could prove quite difficult to find some privacy, so…"

"Oh!" said Belle, understanding and embarrassment turning her own face scarlet. "So you and Gaston came here to…"

"No! Not _that_!" she explained quickly, staring fixedly at her feet. The edges of her lips curved up slightly in a sad smile. "He…he actually…um… he _proposed_ to me in that alcove. It was partially hidden by the shelves and no one could see us. I was bit enthusiastic when I said yes and jumped into his arms. He fell back and his elbow activated the latch. We fell through and realized what had happened. We assumed it was restricted to all but the Royal family and council, so we never mentioned its discovery to anyone. Besides, our lives were turned upside down a few days later, so you can see why I gave it no further thought until now."

"Yes," Belle said sympathetically and reached out for Natalie's hand. "I understand. And I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize, milady," she replied softly, avoiding Belle's eyes. "Now, let's find what you're looking for so we can get out of here!"

Natalie's reading skills were basic at best, so while Belle searched the scrolls and tomes, she inspected the relics. "Cardinal Salir would burst the blood vessel in his neck if he knew of this room. These objects are full of dark magic, milady! I can feel it in my bones. They ought not be meddled with."

"Really Natalie, they look harmless to me," she admonished her friend. She crossed the room and pulled the glass dome off of one pedestal. "Take this one for instance. It looks perfectly innocent. The markings here are in a language I know well. It translates to 'The Map of All Worlds.' It's just a simple globe, nothing dark about it."

"But there is no map drawn on it!" insisted Natalie. "It's an orb full of fog with a nasty needle at the top. It is obviously magical. And magic is evil. Everyone knows that."

Belle heaved a sigh and carefully placed the dome back over top of the globe. "That's the Cardinal speaking. A sword is not evil. It is merely a tool to be wielded. The same thing goes for magic."

"So if the one who wields it decides to use it for either good or evil, why would you want to call upon someone known as the _Dark One_?"

"Because we have no other choice," Belle replied stoically. She resumed her search among the scrolls, grateful that each one had a note identifying its contents so that she did not have to unroll each one. "Midas is refusing to help us any further and the fairies have ignored all of our pleas. He is the only one left to call on."

It took another quarter of an hour before Belle found what she was looking for; a yellowed scroll, several decades old, with detailed instructions on how to call on a wizard by the name of Rumplestiltskin. She wasn't sure how accurate it was anymore, but it was all she had to go on.

To Natalie's intense relief, Belle decided she would not call upon the Dark One that night. She had been awake for nearly forty hours and had begun to slur her words in her exhaustion. She would need all her wits about her and then some in order to go toe to toe with the legend.

She could only hope that the Dark One was a reasonable man.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin stared intently at Killian Jones's severed hand for several minutes and pondered whether or not it he should take it with him to the Land Without Magic.

He had been packing for days now, deciding which of his precious possessions would make the journey with him and which would be left behind. Bae's belongings had been among the first objects carefully tucked away into his enchanted trunk, along with the key that would one day unlock the potion currently entombed within Maleficent's stomach. His spare spinning wheel, the peasants-turned-puppets and a few other odds and ends that may come in handy in this new land all took up precious space.

The hand, however, had no actual use; its value was purely intrinsic. Besides, it was being preserved by magic, much like the body of Regina's stable boy. While she would ensure that poor Daniel would not decompose, the same could not be said of the pirate's dismembered limb.

Pity. It truly was one of his most prized possessions. Perhaps he could pickle it and take it along in a jar?

Instead, he carefully placed it, along with a few other precious mementos, into the secret cupboard next to the glass display case. This trip was about looking towards the future, not holding onto the past.

He had spent every waking moment of every day for the past three centuries looking for a way to the Land Without Magic and this time he would finally succeed. He had merely needed to tweak a few things here and there to ensure Regina's enemies succeeded, and voila! He had the makings of a savior brewing in Snow White's womb.

With everything he had done for the lucky couple, one would think they could have at least extended a wedding invitation to him. He did so love a good party.

But no. He was no longer of any use to the new King and Queen. They condemned his magic as evil, yet had sought out his help time and time again. They would need him once more, and soon. They just didn't know it yet.

But he did. He had foreseen it. They would come to him for assistance, but only when they thought he was weak and powerless. They would never risk the life of their precious daughter otherwise.

So he had tricked a simple maid into signing over her first born child in exchange for a life full of comfort and love. He had no intention of actually taking her baby, but there was really no other way to get the Kingdoms riled up enough to join forces to bring him down.

The cinder girl would eventually call on him and he would allow himself to be captured.

Until that fateful day arrived, however, he had nothing to do but bide his time. Having the Sight had its uses, but sometimes it was simply aggravating. He had no idea _when_ or _how_ he would be captured, just that he would be locked away for an indefinite period of time.

His preparations had been completed months ago and his bags were almost completely packed. He had nothing to do now but wait; wait for circumstances to unfold naturally, no longer requiring his interference.

By the Gods, he was bored!

A fight for his soul would be nice about now. Anything to break up the monotony of his days, sitting alone, spinning gold in his dreary castle, waiting for the axe to fall. His patience was beginning to wane now that he had all the elements in place to find his son.

What he needed was a distraction.

He turned his attention back to his collection, now internally debating the fate of the Hammer of Asgard. Would he even be able to lift Thor's Hammer in this new land?

Suddenly, a slightly smoking scroll magically appeared in the air in front of him. "What is this, I wonder," he said to himself as he snatched the intrusive piece of paper, all thoughts of his spare fairy wands and crystal balls now forgotten. "Could the cinder girl and her band of heroes have found a way to ensnare me already?"

He quickly broke the wax seal and unrolled the singed parchment. Expecting the hesitant, scratchy scrawl of the uneducated former-maid-turned-princess, he was momentarily caught off guard by the perfect cursive that lay before him.

_The Prince and Princess of the Marshland Kingdom respectfully request the presence of the Dark One, known also as Rumplestiltskin, to a meeting in Avonlea to discuss a lucrative deal. _

Could this be the trap he had been waiting for? Prince Charming was simply not that imaginative, but he really couldn't discount the possibility that they were using the smaller kingdom as a cover to entrap him.

And if the royal couple really _did_ want to deal, well, this could prove just the distraction he needed.

…..

It was just past twilight when he materialized outside of a clearing, invisible to any prying eyes that may be lurking about in the darkness. He immediately detected the presence of two figures standing rigidly next to the brightly burning pyre they had used to summon him. Royals, he wagered, by their perfect posture.

They seemed relatively harmless at the moment, so he studiously ignored them as he searched the marshy area for any hidden defenses they may have brought along. His heightened senses detected no magic in the area, nor any soldiers. Their only companions seemed to be the horses that pulled their simple carriage.

So this wasn't the trap after all. Feeling mildly disappointed, he made his way toward the duo that dared to call on him as he contemplated which of many elaborate ways he would present himself.

"This was a terrible idea," grumbled the taller of the two. "We should head back to the castle immediately."

"He could be on his way right now!" insisted the man's shorter companion with an accent Rumplestiltskin wouldn't soon forget. Her head was enshrouded by a beige cloak embroidered with hundreds of green leaves and yellow flowers, but it didn't completely hide the chestnut curls that gently tumbled out the sides. Her clothes spoke of great wealth, yet the Dark One's sharp eyes couldn't help but notice that her wrap showed years of wear and the golden gown underneath was frayed badly around the hem.

So the Marshland Kingdom was having financial issues.

It was not that surprising, considering the war they had raged against the Ogres. What was surprising was his complete lack of involvement in the whole thing! Their army had managed to defeat the barbaric race on their own, ignored by the other kingdoms and their supposed allies, all without the drafting of children.

That earned them a smidgeon of respect from him. He supposed he could at least listen to their plea.

"Remember, this creature is not to be trusted," whispered the giant. "Legend has it that he hunts children for his evening meals."

"Actually, dearies," Rumplestiltskin said loudly as he crept between them and wrapped his arms around their thin waists, "I hunt them for their pelts. Their supple skins make the softest leather pants imaginable."

It was always amusing to see the reactions of those who had never before laid eyes upon his monstrous appearance. He was no stranger to the horrified looks he received and had long ago stopped being offended by them. He knew what he was.

And the tall man, apparently, was no stranger to swordplay. He had withdrawn his weapon much faster than Rumplestiltskin would have expected for such a large man, and pivoted so that his massive body blocked the fair maiden from harm. The woman had obviously been startled by his sudden appearance as well, causing the hood of her cloak to fall back and reveal her delicate features.

She would have been quite stunning had her cheeks not been sunken in and her skin not been sallow and pasty. In the brief second he had held her waist over the voluminous cloak, he had been able to feel the sharp angles of her hips. It had obviously been some time since she had eaten regular meals and even longer since those meals had contained the proper nutrients needed to keep her healthy.

She should be supple and curvy, he thought fleetingly, with ivory skin and soft, shiny curls. She should be dressed in the finest silks with a dozen servants waiting to dote on her every whim. Instead, the Princess stood before him in a wet marsh, miles away from her castle, half-starved and wanting to deal with him.

He was instantly reminded of another destitute princess who had called on him, although Snow White had obviously fared much better with poverty than these two.

His attention was brought back to the present when the tall oaf's sword came dangerously close to his chest. Not that he could possibly be harmed, of course, but as dragons were becoming more and more scarce these days, he would have trouble replacing his fine leather coat. He swatted the offending weapon aside like he would a gnat and snickered. "Not serious, dearies. That one was a quip."

The man continued to glower uselessly but he could have sworn he heard an amused snort coming from the lady, although he was sure he must have misheard it. There was no way a lady with her upbringing and blue blood could find _him_ amusing.

"Are you Rumplestiltskin?" she asked pleasantly, her voice strong and clear. Curious; most women trembled in his presence. Or cried. She, on the other hand, didn't show a trace of fear. In fact, he saw only curiosity in her blue orbs. Very curious, indeed.

He bowed mockingly, spreading his arms wide to either side. "In the flesh, your Majesties. And you are?"

"I am…pleased to make your acquaintance, Dark One," the Princess replied mischievously. "Forgive us if we do not give you our names, but I'm told that names have power and you seem to have that in spades."

"Indeed, I do, Highness." The girl was smart, he would give her that. Far smarter than her counterpart in King Robert's kingdom, that's for sure. She probably had more sense in her pinky finger than Princess Cinderella had in her entire body. He would have to be careful with this one. "Now then, how can I, and my irrefutable powers, be of help to you this evening?"

"We wish to make a deal," the man said gruffly.

"That much is clear," he replied tauntingly. He turned his back on the Prince, preferring to speak with the lady. "What kind of deal? You managed to handle your little ogre problem without my help. What could you possibly need of me?"

"Our people are starving," she said grimly, her brow deeply creased in worry. "My husband and I have done our best to purchase enough food from the other kingdoms but we simply don't have the means to sustain this arrangement much longer. Our fields were destroyed by the ogres and nothing has grown ever since. We barely survived the winter and if we cannot grow our own food this summer, I fear we will not survive the next one."

"So you wish me to…what? Make your crops grow?" He sauntered around the large bonfire, thinking quickly. It was very rare for anyone to call on him for such an unselfish cause. Usually his patrons asked for power, wealth, or eternal youth. Never has a royal asked for food to feed her people! "That may be possible…for a price, of course. All magic comes with a price, dearie. What's in it for me?"

Prince what's-his-face, he had completely forgotten about the quiet giant already, marched to the open carriage and pulled a coarse, home-spun cloth away, revealing their offering. Its metallic surface reflected the delicate, dancing flames from the pyre, making it glow brightly in the darkness.

Was that a pillow made of gold?

The pillow had clearly been transformed by magic. He knew how stingy Midas was with his golden gift, meaning the royal couple had either stolen it or had done some highly demeaning act for it. He guessed the latter. Their desperation was quite palpable.

"I'm afraid we have a problem, dearie," he said, feeling mildly sorry. "In return for my help, I require something quite valuable."

"It's worth a small fortune," she explained quickly. "That is _all_ the money we have."

"Ah. You see, there is a difference between _valuable_ and _expensive_. While I'm sure this is worth a great deal, it is absolutely useless to me." At their blank expressions, he added, "I _make_ gold. Have you not heard my legends?"

A look passed between husband and wife, so quick he almost missed it. But he could have sworn he saw a glint of interest in the Princess's eyes as he mentioned his hobby, while the Prince looked momentarily alarmed and carefully shook his head at her.

Perhaps this woman was not as virtuous as she first appeared. Perhaps it was all a front to mask her hunger for wealth and power, as did Cora. He suddenly did not feel as accommodating.

"I'm sure you could melt it down to buy what you need," he said coldly. He didn't bother to add that they would all be ripped from this world by a powerful curse in just a few months anyway. If too many people knew of its existence they might try to do something to stop Regina from casting it, and he couldn't allow that to happen.

"Please wait!" she cried out beseechingly. "We need to get out from under the other kingdoms' thumbs! There must be something else we can give you! Just name your price!"

"You have nothing I desire, dearie."

He turned away, wanting nothing more than to return to his packing, when she grabbed his hand with both of hers. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now, despair shining brightly in her eyes. Perhaps she _was_ sincere. Cora had certainly never cried, even before she had ripped out her own heart.

"Please," she said softly. "Please, you are _not_ the type of man who would let children starve to death. Not when you have the power to stop it."

"Indeed not," he confessed quietly, instantly regretting the slip. "What else can you offer me?"

"My Mother's necklace?" she asked, fingering the delicate pearl between her fingers. "It's my most prized possession. She died giving birth to me. Or perhaps my library? It's my favorite place in the entire world. We even have an entire room dedicated to books on magic! Maybe they could be of use to you."

He highly doubted that. "I'm fully aware of your Kingdom's _religion_, Princess. I assume any books you have on the subject would be about as helpful to me as listening to the Cardinal preach one of his sermons."

She worried her lower lip and looked around, as if to ensure the cleric's minions were not lurking about, eavesdropping. "Salir is not aware of this room. There are hundreds of books and scrolls all on magic, even a few magical objects. I could give you the Everlasting Candle…" He rolled his eyes. "Or a pouch of pixie dust…" He sneered disdainfully. "Or the Map of All Worlds…"

"Stop!" The Map of All Worlds? It had not been seen in decades. Could it really be the real one? "The last one; describe it to me."

She gestured with her hands animatedly, clearly excited that she had piqued his interest. "It's a globe about this tall and the orb is full of thick, white fog."

"And the top?" he asked eagerly. "What of the top?"

"A sharp needle."

_The Blood Map_! So it really did exist! He had no idea just how big Bae's world truly was. It could possibly take years to find him. But if he was successful in bringing Magic along to this new land, he could use the map to find his son much faster. "I suppose I could take it off your hands, Princess. And in exchange, I will ensure that all your lands are fruitful enough to feed everyone for years to come. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal!" She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. It had been so long since anyone had willingly touched him, decades in fact, that he really had no idea how to respond to the friendly gesture. Her body was so warm against his despite the cool night air and her skin had the most intoxicating scent of roses.

His hands slowly moved to wrap around her diminutive waist and he was once again shocked by the harsh angles that lay hidden underneath her gown. She must be at least twenty pounds underweight.

The Prince abruptly cleared his throat in annoyance, breaking the fragile spell between them. He quickly pulled away from the embrace as if her petite form had scorched him and awkwardly smoothed away invisible creases in his jacket. She appeared to be just as surprised as he, with her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of fuchsia and once again nibbling shyly on her lower lip.

She was absolutely breathtaking!

"Um…we don't have the globe with us," she said apologetically, cocking her head in the direction of Avonlea, a few miles away. "It's in our castle."

He could easily transport them there with just a thought and be on his way with his prize moments later. That would be the smart thing to do. But then the contract would be fulfilled and he would have no reason to ever again see the peculiar Princess who strangely did not fear him.

"There is another important matter that requires my attention right now," he said shrilly, the words seemingly coming out of his mouth without his brain's approval. "I shall give you the time needed to retrieve my payment and meet you there later. Then, and only then, will I enchant your crops to grow."

"Of course," she agreed quickly, curtsying respectively. She smiled shyly and cleared her throat. "Shall we say midnight in the War Room?"

He returned the gesture without a trace of mockery. "I look forward to it, your Highness."

In the blink of an eye he was back in the Great Room of his castle, surprised and a little bit annoyed at his decision to not take possession of the globe immediately. It could prove to be the most instrumental object in the search for his son and yet he was willing to wait hours to take it; all because a woman _hugged_ him!

It's not like they're going anywhere with it, he reasoned. They knew he would not help them if they failed to provide his payment. Besides, it's not as though taking this additional meeting would change anything in the grand scheme of things! What could possibly happen in the next few hours?

Shrugging out of his intimidating, pointy leather coat, he bypassed his packing and went instead to his bedchambers. He was sure he had a silk shirt somewhere that would perfectly complement her golden gown.

* * *

**Next Chapter – Rumple receives his globe…and an indecent proposal! **


	5. Chapter 5: An Indecent Proposal

**Chapter 5 – An Indecent Proposal**

Rumplestiltskin stared at his reflection in the tower window, having forgone with mirrors decades ago, and debated whether or not he was going completely insane.

He had spent the last few hours picking out an outfit to wear. Him! Hours! All so that he could make a good impression on a married Princess who had _already_ agreed to his terms! Yes, he was definitely going insane.

It was only because she had shown him kindness and respect instead of fear. It had been far too long since someone had looked at him, _really_ looked at him, without a trace of disgust on their face, let alone hug him!

He hadn't been hugged in centuries. Not since Baelfire.

He and Cora had shared passionate embraces, yes, but he realized too late that there hadn't been much affection in them. This destitute Princess had even shown him more warmth in those few moments than Milah had in the years following his return from war.

It had only been a brief physical contact followed by a tentative smile, but to him it was a flicker of brilliant light amidst an ocean of unquenchable darkness.

Was it wrong of him to want to experience just one more flicker before he was entombed underground for months on end?

After much internal debate, he finally decided to wear his gold silk shirt with a burgundy brocade vest and brown leather pants; the type of clothes he favored while he toiled around in his castle and rarely wore out in public. It wasn't all that different from his usual attire; perhaps a bit fancier and far less intimidating, especially without the high-collared dragon-hide jacket. He would still appear powerful, just not as threatening.

Women who felt threatened rarely smiled, at least in his experience.

With a just flick of his wrist, he was sitting comfortably on the King's throne in the crumbling War Room. The bells in the town square had just finished its twelfth strike, indicating the late hour. Perfect, as usual. He was nothing if not a stickler for time.

He immediately felt the cool night air creeping through his silk chemise, courtesy of several broken windows. The room had obviously been cleared of any debris that had accumulated from the years of battle, yet no repairs had been done on the crumbling balustrades, floors or furnishings. It held the unmistakable feel of a derelict fortress.

It would seem that the Princess had indeed spent the kingdom's coffers on food for her people rather than repair her castle. Interesting.

His eyes then caught sight of the Map of All Worlds, the _Blood Map_, sitting in the middle of the unbroken, hickory table. It was even more beautiful than he had ever imagined!

This was the key. The key to his happy ending!

Rising swiftly, he immediately pricked his finger on the sharp point and let the flow of blood drip unto the globe. The scarlet liquid swirled eerily among the white fog as it spread and grew, finally forming itself into the continents of a world with which he was unfamiliar; The Land Without Magic.

It was much larger than he had been expecting; certainly larger than any world he had travelled to in the past. He could have easily spent a lifetime, several lifetimes in fact, searching for Bae with no success. He couldn't pinpoint his son's exact location just yet, but once he brought magic to this new world he would be able to narrow his search all the way down to his son's hut!

"I'm coming, Bae," he whispered reverently.

"I take it by your smile that it meets your approval?" asked a deep voice behind him.

Rumplestiltskin swirled around, uncharacteristically caught off guard. He had been so caught up with his prize that he had failed to notice the Prince leaning casually against the far windowsill, drinking heavily from a hip flask.

The Princess, unfortunately, was nowhere in sight.

"It will suffice," he said stoically, stomping down his disappointment. "Where is your lovely wife, your Majesty? I prefer to conduct my business person-to-person. My deal was with _her_, not you."

"This deal is for the benefit of _everyone_ in the Marshlands, therefore your deal is with all of us, not just my wife." He took another swig of alcohol and laughed humorlessly, clearly on his way to becoming drunk. "As for her whereabouts…she is in her quarters, preparing for bed."

He couldn't help but feel mildly insulted. After all, it had been she who had set the time and location for their meeting tonight. "And is the life of a Princess so taxing that she can't stay up past midnight?"

The Prince's chiseled features darkened dangerously, a new fire sparking in his eyes. He staggered forward and reached for his sword. "You know nothing!" he spat disdainfully. "You know nothing of what she has sacrificed for her people. For all of us!"

It was a mistake to have come tonight, he realized. He should have simply demanded his payment at the pyre and been done with them. Instead, he had allowed himself to have been beguiled by a smile. He was such a fool.

He picked up the precious globe and bowed sarcastically to the inebriated Prince. "Thank you for your business, your Majesty. Enjoy your produce."

"Wait!" The Prince ran a shaking hand through his hair and licked his cracked lips. "Wait! There is something else."

"Our business has been fulfilled, dearie," he replied shrilly and pointed his finger menacingly at the taller man. "The deal is struck. Your crops will be ready for harvest in a fortnight. We have nothing further to discuss."

"I wish to make another deal."

Rumplestiltskin hesitated mid-step. Something didn't sit right with him. The Prince was far too nervous. "Without your woman here to speak for you? Are you sure that is wise?"

"Please, just sit and hear me out."

"I prefer to stand."

The Prince nodded absent-mindedly and reached for a bottle of wine and two goblets. His hands shook terribly as he poured the scarlet liquid and handed him a cup.

He accepted the goblet but did not drink. He had no intention of staying. There was no longer anything the Prince had that he desired and his patience was quickly waning. There was nothing he despised more than time-wasters. "What is it you wish of me this time, your Majesty?"

"Actually, it is not what you can do for me, but what _I_ can do for _you_!" He took another drink and ran his tongue across his lips. "Tell me, Dark One. What do think of my wife?"

"I think she has a pathetic excuse for a husband," he replied tauntingly.

He glowered at the Dark One but there was no real fire behind it. "What do think of _her_? You must have formed some type of opinion already. Did you find her beautiful? Intelligent? Kind?"

Rumplestiltskin felt his eye twitch. What was the Prince playing at? Was he trying to provoke a reaction? Was it that obvious that she had stirred something within him? Or was there something else he was after?

"The first two are obviously a yes," he replied simply. "Only a fool would think otherwise."

"And the third?"

He weighed his words carefully. "The jury is still out on the third."

The goblet paused on its way to the Prince's mouth. "You question her kindness?"

"I question her sincerity, as I do all women." He shifted uncomfortably and turned his back on the other man to gaze out the windows. "They are rarely as trustworthy as they want you to believe."

"Are you talking from personal experience?" the Prince boldly asked. "You sound like a man who's had his heart broken."

"It's unwise to taunt the beast, dearie!" he shrilled. It was his turn to glower dangerously now. The conversation was hitting a little too close to home for his liking. Cora's betrayal had cut him far more deeply than even he was willing to admit. The hit to his ego still stung sharply, even after almost forty years. "I have no time for silly romances or trysts! I am far too busy with making deals and turning bothersome princes into snails!"

"Perhaps the right woman just hasn't piqued your interest yet."

"Get to your point before I turn you into an hors d'oeuvre!"

"You never answered my question. You made quite the impression on my wife. I had to hear all about it on the ride back here. But I'm far more interested in hearing your opinion of her."

"Oooh! Jealous, are we?" If the Prince was going to push his buttons then he would gladly return the favor. "Did it rile you up inside, seeing your wife jump into the arms of another man? Especially one that can give her something you obviously can't…a solution to all her problems! Tell me, do you find it _emasculating,_ being unable to keep your own wife from starvation?"

The Prince turned his back on the Dark One and poured himself another glass of wine. He drank it down all at once. "There are things about my wife of which you not aware," he said quietly. "I believe you can help this kingdom."

"If you're looking for an assassin, I'll stop you right there!" Rumple exclaimed. "I don't get involved in marital disputes. Too messy!"

"No! Nothing like that," the Prince replied tiredly. "There is only one reason why we have managed to survive as long as we have. My wife is the bravest, most selfless person in the Enchanted Forest." He reached for the wine and helped himself to another glass. "Tell me. Do you desire her?"

"Do I _what_ now?" Of everything that could have come out of the man's mouth, this was the last thing he had expected. "We're done here."

"You said you were too busy with your deals to have time for women," he called out to Rumple's retreating figure. "What if I were to combine the two?"

"Combine?" For the second time that evening, Rumplestiltskin found himself hesitating. Something was definitely going on here. "Combine how?"

"You claim that you can make gold. It so happens that we are still in desperate need of it. When two people have something the other wants, a deal can always be reached. Don't you agree?"

"I do," he replied cautiously. "But what, exactly, do you have that I want?"

"How about a night with my wife?"

"I beg your pardon?" He felt his anger bubbling to the surface and that never bode well for the one who caused his wrath. "You want me to _bed_ your wife?"

"You have no idea what an incredible sacrifice it is for me to even make you this offer," the Prince continued, reaching for another bottle of wine. "It's a wonderful opportunity for you. Do we have a deal?"

"Let me get this straight." He sat his globe back down on the table and approached the Prince slowly, gesturing animatedly with his hands. "You offer your wife to me, for an _entire_ night, to do with as I please, and you think that _you_ are the one making the sacrifice? I may be a monster, dearie, but I'm no rapist."

"I would never suggest you were," came the quick reply. "Trust me. This was her idea, not mine. We spent the last few hours arguing about it. Please, allow me to explain the rules to you."

_What kind of a man willingly shares his wife with the Dark One?_ he thought disdainfully.

Never before had he been offered such an indecent proposal! This can't really be happening! This must be some perverse joke or…

Ah, this must be it then! The trap.

They got what they desired and were now trying to lure him into another deal, one that would lead to his downfall and imprisonment. Was Charming even now hiding in the hallway, ready to pounce once his powers were frozen? Apparently he hadn't given the shepherd boy enough credit.

This explained everything! If they believed that he was monstrous enough to actually deal for a baby without the mother's knowledge then it's not a far leap to think that he would deal for the _favors _of a princess!

Yes, the pieces were all falling into place.

Well, he seemed to have no choice but to follow along with their little ruse. Snow White was due to give birth in five months' time; a bit longer than he had hoped for his imprisonment, but no matter. His eyes were on the prize.

Speaking of prizes, he vanished his precious globe back to his castle and into the enchanted trunk to guarantee its travel to the next world. He was taking no chances. If this was indeed their trap then he would at least still have the means to find his son.

"All right, dearie," he said as he took a seat. "But before you tell me your precious rules, let's talk price! How much gold will this night cost me?"

"Her going rate is 100 gold coins a night. But in your case…200. Let's call it a danger fee."

He sneered at the Prince. "200 pieces of gold? She's rather expensive, don't you think?"

"I prefer to think of her as _valuable_," joked the tall man, referring to their earlier conversation. "What difference does it really make to you, though? You _make_ gold! This will literally cost you nothing and in return you get to bed a princess. This is a win-win situation for you! You have nothing to lose."

_Except my freedom._ "I suppose I _could_ spare the coins…"

"And as long as there are no unsavory incidents and you obey all the rules, you will be invited to return. Our previous regular patron was able to visit once a month. But with your magic, travel is not an issue, so you could return as often as you wish!"

_That will be hard to do from my underground prison._ "And what are these rules of yours?"

"We have three of them and they are all very simple. One, she is not to be harmed. Two, speak of this arrangement to one. And three, if at any time she orders you to stop, you _will_ stop. Any other questions and concerns must be discussed with her personally. So? Are we in agreement?"

"Why not? I had nothing else to do tonight." He summoned a heavy purse from his castle and tipped it upside down over the table. Exactly two hundred solid gold coins spilled across the wooden surface. "Do you wish me to sign a contract? I'm afraid I didn't bring a quill. Perhaps you have one I could borrow?"

"Of course not! We keep no records. Imagine what would happen to her if they were to fall into the wrong hands." The Prince quickly gathered the coins and placed them in his satchel. "How about we drink to our agreement instead?"

The Prince gestured to the goblet of wine that had lain untouched during their entire conversation. Of course…the wine.

Rumplestiltskin saluted his companion then boldly took a drink, fully expecting it to be spiked with the squid ink that he himself had transported to the Enchanted Forest for just this moment. He closed his eyes, waiting for the ink to work its magic by freezing his.

Nothing happened. He frowned into the goblet.

"I'm sure the quality of our wine is not up to your usual standards," the Prince said apologetically as he helped himself to another glass, "but it does have one redeeming quality. Come, Dark One. The night awaits."

He quickly rose and drunkenly staggered to an ancient tapestry in the corner of the War Room, one that depicted a great battle against a Chimaera. It was singed in several places and the thread had come undone on the bottom, decreasing its height by several inches. Rumple assumed it must some serve some purpose other than decoration since the craftsmanship was shoddy at best, even before its apparent destruction.

He was unsurprised then when the Prince pulled the cloth back and pushed in one of the stones. A secret door slowly grinded open to reveal a dark passageway.

"Normally, I escort her patrons through the passages from the guest rooms, but I can't risk anyone seeing you wander through the castle right now. If you choose to return then I'm sure you could simply appear and disappear into the chamber, once you know where it is."

Rumple stayed silent as he entered the dark corridor, allowing the Prince to continue his pointless rambling. The man was certainly committed to the ruse, he'd give him that. He was surprised that the intoxicated man could even walk straight, let alone remember a string of lies.

After a few moments, they arrived at long, winding staircase that disappeared deep into the dark abyss. Was he even now headed to his underground cell? He had assumed it would be deep in the mines that Snow White's dwarf minions loved so much. It was foolish of them then, to have his prison so close to a populated area. Perhaps the months would just fly by with lots of peasants nearby to scare!

Finally, they arrived at a very formidable looking door. The Prince took a steadying breath and reached for the latch. His fingers hesitated over the knob as he glared once more at the Dark One. "If you hurt her in any way, I'll…"

"You'll what?" he replied impishly. He was tired of this game! He just wanted to get this all over with so he could begin his imprisonment in peace! "Hunt me down and slay me with your pointy sword?"

"I would be devastated," he replied resignedly.

Rumple rolled his eyes in annoyance. "No harm will come to her. You have my word."

Seeming satisfied, the Prince released the latch and pulled the door open. Rumple strode in, ready to portray mock indignation at Charming's little trap. He was a showman, after all.

He fully anticipated the room to be the dark, dank, depressing cell from his vision. He was fully prepared to feel the paralyzing fear of having his powers stripped away from him. He expected to see Princes and dwarves and perhaps even fairies, all prepared to give up their lives in order to bring the Dark One to _justice_.

He had not been prepared to enter a room resembling a sultan's harem, complete with a scantily clad princess who smiled seductively at him as she lounged across a large bed.

Charming must be hiding beneath the pillows.

Right?

* * *

**Next Chapter – Belle and Rumple's night does not go as either of them had planned!**


	6. Chapter 6: The Golden Rule

**A/N - Life has taken a turn for the complicated so updates may not be as regular as I'd initially hoped. Sorry!**

* * *

**Chapter 6 – The Golden Rule**

Belle stared at her reflection in the cracked looking glass on her vanity and debated whether or not she was going completely insane!

The ride back from the meeting with Rumplestiltskin had not been a pleasant one. She and Gaston had argued during the entire journey back to Avonlea. He had known what she was thinking the second the Dark One had revealed that he could make gold and he was vehemently against it. And why shouldn't he be? This _was_ the Dark One, after all!

Their marriage may not be orthodox in the traditional sense of the word, but he still took his vows to protect her quite seriously; sometimes a little too seriously. She knew he would lay down his life for her in a heartbeat without a second thought. He was, after all, an honorable man, not to mention her best friend. But the former knight still looked upon her first and foremost as his Princess and he would obey any direct order she gave, whether he agreed with her decision or not.

She hated using that authority over her husband but he had left her no choice. It was, after all, her life and she had the right to decide her own fate. If she chose to give herself to a sorcerer to save her Kingdom then that was her decision.

Besides, Rumplestiltskin hadn't seemed that bad to her. He certainly looked like no man she had ever encountered before, but he was still very clearly a man. And every man, no matter how powerful or aloof he may seem, had needs.

In all the legends she had ever heard, he was described as a loner; a powerful sorcerer kept apart from normal society and only emerged under the cover of darkness to fulfill his nefarious deals. She had no idea if there was a Mrs. Dark One waiting for him back in his lair, but her instincts told her no; he was indeed alone and maybe even wanted it that way.

Believing that he was unwed made her decision that much easier to bear. She always felt guilty after entertaining a married patron, especially if she was acquainted with his wife! Prince James had never shown any signs of settling down, at least not while he was still one of her regulars, so she had gone to bed every morning after with a clear conscience.

She hoped that would also be the case tomorrow.

She was taking particular care with her make-up this evening, wanting everything to be perfect. If he did indeed take Gaston up on their offer, then she wanted to make a great first impression. It was paramount that he would want to return to her bed again, hopefully at least once a month. Gaston had been right when he had said that Midas was the bottom of the barrel.

Rumplestiltskin truly was their last hope.

The black khol flowed thickly over her eyes, creating a dramatic transformation on her gaunt face. She had made it herself using the soot from her fireplace and stolen lanolin from the stables. It was the type of makeup used primarily by peasants for special occasions, and of course prostitutes, but rarely ever used by someone of her station.

Before the war, at the height of her family's wealth, she had been able to indulge in some of the most expensive and exotic cosmetics imported from far off lands. Of course back then, she had preferred soft pinks and roses, wanting to subtly enhance her feminine features, not cover them up. Her guests, however, preferred her in darker colors, wanting to heighten her sexuality and the illicitness of the whole affair.

She thought hard about what type of woman the Dark One most likely favored, if he even enjoyed the company of women at all, that is. He couldn't possibly find quiet, Bookworm Belle worthy of his attention. He was the most powerful being in all the known realms and would most likely only be attracted to someone as equally powerful.

The Evil Queen instantly came to mind.

She hadn't seen Queen Regina in almost a decade, not since King Leopold and his family had travelled through the Marshlands on their way to the sea, and long before she had obtained her more popular moniker. Back then, Belle had been a shy, sheltered adolescent and Regina had seemed so worldly and sophisticated. She couldn't help but look up to her. The heads of every man, both young and old, would strain for the chance to catch a glimpse of the incredibly beautiful woman.

She had tried to emulate the Queen the first year she had been exchanging her sexual favors for gold. Pretending to be someone else had given her the confidence she had so desperately lacked and who better to imitate than one of the most desired and confident women in all the lands?

It helped her to sleep at night, knowing that these men were sharing their bed with an illusion and not the real her.

Picturing the woman now known as the Evil Queen in her mind, she applied a thick layer of red ocher to her lips and added a bit more khol to her eyelids and lashes for good measure. She normally left her hair down or in a simple braid, but tonight she wanted something a bit more seductive. She gathered her tousled hair and knotted in on one side, letting it flow over her right shoulder while leaving the left side and back of her neck completely exposed.

She barely recognized herself. Instead of a poor, weary Princess, she was now a sultry vixen, worthy of someone as powerful as the notorious Rumplestiltskin.

The bells in the town square began to ring, indicating the late hour. The Dark One should be arriving any second now in the War Room to retrieve his payment. While she knew that Gaston would fulfill his task to the best of his abilities, she also knew that he would do so without gusto or enthusiasm. Hopefully without too much alcohol either.

There was very little chance that Rumplestiltskin would agree to their offer, but she was determined to be ready for him regardless. Hope for the best, as her father was once known to say.

She donned her robe and raced down the secret stairwell, not even bothering with a torch. She knew every curve of every wall, every broken step and every dip in the floor. Her feet traveled the familiar path effortlessly, leaving her mind free to plan her evening.

The secret room had already been cleaned after Midas's visit, new sheets now covered the feather mattress and their home-made wine had been restocked. She added several logs to the glowing embers in the hearth to chase the chill out of the former dungeon, and lit some rose incense to cover up the damp smell. After relocating some errant pillows, she had nothing to do now but wait.

Her fingers itched to grab one of the books off her hidden shelves out of habit, but she knew there was no way she could concentrate on the words tonight. She was nervous. Far too nervous for someone who has done this over a hundred times before, yet she couldn't shake the tingling sensation that crept up her spine.

It wasn't just the normal fear she felt before any new client, she realized. Strangely, it was a bit of anticipation!

The Dark One intrigued her. He was an enigma; a mystery to be uncovered and there was nothing she loved more than solving a good mystery. He was dangerous, yet a gentleman. Smart, but also a bit of a smart-ass. Disfigured, yet alluring in his own way. He was unlike any other patron she had ever had and she was curious to find out more about him.

After several long and anxious minutes, she finally detected the faint echoing sounds of Gaston's heavy boots descending the stone steps, followed by a second quieter set. So he _had_ agreed to her husband's offer after all! Now she would just have to convince him that it was worth his while to return to her again and again and again.

She quickly placed her robe underneath the bed for easy access later and then positioned herself across the silk sheets. It was showtime!

The door opened soundlessly and Rumplestiltskin confidently strode in. She had expected to see him dressed as the intimidating sorcerer from earlier, all dark and hard leather. She had assumed he would leer at her scantily clad form like every other man who had preceded him. She had expected to see lust and power brimming in his strange orbs and perhaps even a self-satisfied smirk or two.

She had not been prepared to see the Dark One dressed in the soft, rich silks of a simple nobleman, standing perfectly still as though frozen in fear, with absolute confusion clouding his rounded eyes.

He hardly seemed threatening at all right now; more like a scared animal caught in a huntsman's snare. Why, he looked positively petrified!

Did Gaston not properly explain to him the arrangement? He looked as though he had just agreed to a deal he didn't fully understand.

"Good evening, Rumplestiltskin," she crooned in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "I trust my husband has gone over the rules with you?"

His body remained completely immobile except for his head, which moved from side to side, his eyes seemingly searching for something. "Hmmm?" he asked distractedly. "Rules? Yes, yes. We had a lovely chat over several bottles of wine. I may have even had a sip or two."

Belle's shoulders slumped ever so slightly in defeat. So Gaston had resorted to alcohol once again, just like the first time she had asked him to broker a deal. She would have to see him first thing in the morning to see how ill he was and to assure him that she was perfectly fine.

Hopefully it wouldn't be a lie.

Rumplestiltskin, meanwhile, had finally found his feet and was now gliding across the room in some hypnotic dance as he pulled aside each of the silk wall coverings. The panic in his eyes was becoming more apparent with every second.

"I can assure you we are quite alone in here. I promise absolute discretion in return for the same." Does he ever stay still? She was becoming dizzy trying to keep up with his movements. "Please, there's no need to be nervous. Perhaps you would care to join me for some wine?"

"Wine?"

That seemed to have caught his attention. Maybe the alcohol would wash away his anxieties long enough for him to sit still. She handed him a pewter goblet and watched as he drank it down all at once. His eyelids remained firmly shut for several seconds before he reluctantly reopened them, appearing thoroughly deflated. He even sniffed the empty cup.

"I'm sorry if the wine isn't to your liking. I'm afraid I have nothing else to offer you."

"No, dearie. The wine is not the problem," he said resignedly. He handed her back the glass and studied her carefully, his eyes roving over her from head to toe. She could have sworn that she saw his lips curve into a sneer but it was gone as quick as it came. "So. _This_ is how you have fed your people? The Princess of Avonlea is nothing but a prostitute!"

"I am so much more than that," she replied calmly, not taking offence at the tone. Many of her guests had the same reaction the first time, especially those that were acquainted with her family. "But in answer to your question, however, yes. The richest men in the Enchanted Forest have been paying me for my services for the better part of two years now."

"And here I thought you might be different," he said disdainfully. "But apparently you really are no better than…" He shook his head and cleared his throat loudly, as though suddenly realizing he had been speaking out loud.

"Better than what?" she asked, genuinely curious. She had also had this conversation many times as well. "Better than a common peasant, simply because I grew up in a castle instead of a hovel? I'd like to think that I'm no better than anyone else. This is, after all, one of the oldest professions in the world and I am hardly the first desperate woman to fall into it. My people expect me to be able to protect them, provide for them in their hour of need. Surely you can understand the lengths someone will go to protect the ones they love?"

She could see a debate of some sort waging behind his eyes. "What is your name, dearie?" he asked quietly.

"It's whatever you would like it to be," she purred on cue. Most of the men who sought her company were looking for a fantasy, an escape from the everyday trials and tribulations of life. "In this room I will be whomever you want me to be."

His gaze traveled over her scantily clad form once again and this time he didn't try to hide the look of disgust on his face. His piercing eyes met hers calculatingly and he remained silent for several long minutes. She did her best to meet his gaze but she felt as though he was seeing right through her, into her very soul. It was unnerving.

When she didn't think she could stand the silence any longer he broke eye contact and finally spoke up. "So you _actually_ don't mind sharing your bed with me?" he asked skeptically.

"Not at all," she replied at once. "It is my sincere hope that you will enjoy yourself tonight and want to return again in the near future. I would very much like the chance to get to know you."

"And the monster's rosy complexion doesn't bother you?"

"You're not a monster," she replied honestly.

"Don't fool yourself, dearie," he whispered dangerously, suddenly inches away from her face. "I could rip out your heart and crush it right in front of your eyes. Doesn't that knowledge make you want to run away screaming?"

She swallowed hard and did her best to keep her voice from cracking. "I don't believe you do anything without reason and I would never give you cause to do so."

He giggled impishly then produced a chair out of thin air. He sat down and crossed his legs, looking finally at ease. "It's settled then. I'll stay. Take off the nightgown."

"I'm sorry?" she asked, confused. That had progressed far more quickly then she had been expecting.

"That racy, lacey thing you're wearing," he sneered, pointing at her dress. "I find it extremely distasteful. Remove it."

"Whatever you wish, sir." She gathered the hem of her long nightgown in both her hands and slowly raised it over her body. She attempted to keep the grin on her face but it was threatening to fall, despite her best intentions. It wasn't the first time she had been ordered to strip immediately and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but part of her had hoped that this time would be different. That _he_ would be different.

The intricate lace smoothly passed over her closed eyes and ruffled her hair. She waited for the cool underground air to raise the usual goosebumps over her naked body, yet oddly enough, they never came.

She looked down upon what she expected to be her bare flesh and saw instead beautiful, blood red silk. The nightgown was cut simply to follow her currently non-existent curves while the bodice was intricately adorned in rare jewels. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and left far _more_ to the imagination than the black lace had.

"No, I don't care for that one either," he said dismissively as he helped himself to more wine. "Remove it as well."

Confused, she did as instructed. Once it too was gone, she looked down, surprised to find a new dress, this one white.

"No. Too matrimonial, don't you think? I paid for the night, not for forever."

Again she removed the gown, only to be replaced by another, then another. Pink, green, yellow, orange, purple… short, long, plain, decorated… None of them seemed to please him while Belle found each more perfect than the last. A small fortune in silk was now piled high on her bed.

Her arms soon began to feel heavy while her face flushed uncomfortably hot. "Is this really necessary?" she huffed impatiently. "At this rate we'll be at this all night!"

"So what if we are?" he asked shrilly. "I paid 200 gold coins with the understanding that I may do _whatever_ I please so long as it causes you no harm. You would do well to remember the Golden Rule, dearie; he who has the gold, makes the rules. Everyone knows that!"

"No, actually, they don't," she admonished as she rolled her eyes. "The Golden Rule is 'do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'"

He appeared momentarily taken aback by her bold correction and she chided herself for taking such liberties with him. The first rule for luring repeat clients is not to appear smarter than them. They weren't paying to debate with her after all!

Rumplestiltskin, however, brushed off the comment and giggled. "In my experience, a more apt phrase would be 'do unto others before they have the chance to do unto you _first_.' But I prefer my rule better." He hopped up from his chair and approached her slowly with both arms firmly tucked behind his back, as if he was afraid to touch her. "Besides, I would think that modeling nightgowns for me would be a far more pleasant experience for you than certain _other_ activities we could be doing."

His warm breath tickled the exposed skin on her shoulder as he circled her and she swallowed hard. "It would please me very much if you would remove this gown as well."

How could she refuse such an earnest request? She reached down to grab the hem of the short, green negligee and pulled it over her head. When she had the chance to look down once more, she gasped in surprise.

"That's the one!" he cried happily. "I knew we'd find it eventually."

It was periwinkle blue, long and flowing. White lace adorned the bodice while her arms were draped in an ivory sheer that gathered prettily at her wrists. It was perfect, like it had been made specifically for her.

Belle realized belatedly that, yes, he had in fact used his magic to create it just for her. She was speechless.

Twirling on her right foot, she giggled foolishly as the material flew around her. "It's beautiful! Thank you so much!"

"No matter," he said, looking away. He looked almost as embarrassed as he had when she had hugged him. Had it really been only a few hours ago?

"What would please you now, sir?" she asked, nibbling on her lower lip to mask the bout of shyness that had suddenly overcome her. No one had ever given her a gift before.

He went back to studying her once again and she couldn't help but notice how his eyes kept flickering back to her mouth. His body remained completely still while his right hand opened and closed, finger by finger. Finally, he waved his free hand over her face, close but not close enough to touch, and she felt the strangest tingling sensation sweep over her skin.

"There!" he exclaimed, sounding quite satisfied with himself. "That's the girl I remember from this evening. All that black and red makeup was reminding me of someone I do not particularly want to think about tonight. Or ever, for that matter!"

She rubbed a finger over her once heavily rouged lips and withdrew them. There was not a trace of the ocher. She passed another finger over an eyelid and was surprised that none of the soot remained.

She looked up at him quizzically and was startled to see a wide paddle hairbrush suddenly appear in mid-air in front of him. He took it with his left and began to rhythmically slap it into his right as he slowly walked around her. She had an inkling of what he had planned and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact.

It never came. Instead, he came up behind her and undid the knot of hair on the side of her head.

"I wanted to do this the second I walked through that door." He gathered sections of her wavy tresses between his fingers and began to brush them with an unexpected tenderness. "Tut-tut. Why would you arrange your hair in this fashion?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"To provide you with better access to my neck," she explained, feeling foolish for her previous thought.

"I'm not a vampire, dearie," he replied matter-of-factly.

She couldn't help but giggle in her nervousness.

She could feel strands of her hair being twisted and tied and thought she may have even caught a brief glimpse of blue ribbon in her peripheral vision. She contentedly closed her eyes and enjoyed the tender feeling of being pampered. She couldn't remember the last time she had experienced something as wonderful as having her hair being brushed by another person.

"Well? What do you think?"

He turned her around to face a full length looking glass that had most certainly not been there moments before. Gone was all trace of her heavy cosmetics, to be replaced with skin as bare as the day she was born. Her hair was very simply, yet elegantly, arranged to keep the chestnut tresses out of her eyes, but free to flow down her back and over her shoulders. The dress was even more beautiful than previously thought and she indulged herself with another twirl.

Rumplestiltskin placed his hands over her shoulders to steady her and whispered into her ear. "Now. What is your name, dearie?"

Gazing at the reflection that was once so familiar, she was momentarily taken aback by how thin and gaunt her body appeared to be. It had been so long since she had had the chance to see herself as fully as others saw her that she felt she was looking at a stranger. The years may have changed her appearance but they would never change who she was inside.

"Belle," she whispered back. "My name is Princess Belle, daughter of King Maurice of the Marshlands, wife to Prince Gaston, former General of the Knights of Avonlea."

"A fitting name. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Belle."

A shiver ran up her spine as her name rolled off of his tongue. He sounded more human than she had yet to hear him. "Likewise, Rumplestiltskin."

"Now this," he said as he ran his arms up and down alongside her, but still not touching, "this is someone worth two hundred gold coins."

Belle's suddenly felt her breath hitch in her throat.

With her heavy dark makeup and intricate lace nightgown, she had been able to create an alternate identity, a completely separate person from Belle, who would say and do things that the shy Princess never would.

She was suddenly nervous because she realized that he was not satisfied with spending a night with her doppelganger. He wanted to be with _her_! And that was something that no one but her husband on their wedding night had ever experienced.

He had removed her carefully constructed mask and her soul now lay completely bare to him. And while she may have been completely covered, she had never felt more exposed in her life.

The mirror disappeared as quickly as it came in a puff of purple smoke, startling her out of her reverie. Rumplestiltskin then placed his hand at the small of her back and gently guided her around. She tried to raise her head but her nerves had completely overcome her.

Her bravery was failing her at the worst possible moment!

She furtively gazed at her companion through the corner of her eye and was surprised to see that he looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. He hesitated when they reached the four-post bed and his hands began to fidget. She wasn't sure if it was out of nerves or if it was just another of his many quirks.

Do the brave thing, she told herself. She gently reached for his hand and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Would you care to sit with me, Rumplestiltskin?"

The Dark One looked every bit as panicked as he had when he first entered the chamber. "You know what, dearie? You're looking a bit peckish! Can't have you passing out tonight from lack of energy, now can we?"

With a flick of his wrist, Belle suddenly felt herself tumbling backwards as the feather mattress underneath her completely disappeared. She landed hard onto a wooden chair and her knees knocked into a long mahogany table where her bed had just been.

Before she had a chance to react, her nose was instantly overwhelmed with the tantalizing aromas of a dozen different dishes. All she could do was stare in openmouthed wonder as her eyes attempted to catch up with her other senses.

There were mounds of fluffy mashed potatoes drenched in butter, a veritable rainbow of vegetables roasted in rare olive oil, bowls of fresh berries topped with sweet whipped cream, three different types of fresh bread, a roasted goose, a poached fish, and a heavenly rich gravy.

It was like the Harvest Day feasts from her youth! All that was missing was the delectable cakes and pies that her fathered had favored so much. This was more food than she had seen at one time in two years.

"Is this real?" she whispered.

"Of course it is!" As if to prove his word was true, he picked up a hearty chunk of roasted squash, dipped it into a dish of melted butter and popped it into his mouth. "Eat as much as you'd like."

"But where did it come from?" she insisted. "Did you create it with your magic?"

He playfully waved a long talon finger in front of her face. "You can't _create_ food, dearie. I merely summoned it. Now eat."

"Summoned it? From where?" she demanded. She had the sudden sinking feeling that a family somewhere was now missing their supper.

"Not from your subjects, I assure you, nor did it come from the tables of other peasants. This is all from my castle; grown by farmers, purchased with gold, and prepared by magic. Eat."

"Did your magic cook it all this second or was it already cooked and kept warm by magic until you needed it?"

"You don't seem to be getting the point, dearie," he replied, exasperated. "Has it been so long since you've last eaten that you've forgotten how?"

She reluctantly ended her line of questions and turned her attention back to the table. Her stomach growled uncomfortably and her hands shook terribly as she reached for the dish closest to her. The end result was a scattering of peas across table, with the rich yellow butter seeping into the white linen.

Belle looked apologetically to Rumplestiltskin, fearing a reprisal as sharp as her governesses were known to dispense, but his eyes merely softened. He picked up her plate and began to laden it with a selection of everything and topped it all with a generous splash of butter and gravy.

"Eat slowly," he warned softly, "or you will get indigestion."

She didn't even bother with a fork at first. She picked up a piece of goose with her fingers and placed it in her mouth. It was so tender it practically melted on her tongue. She licked the gravy right off her thumb, not caring about proper dining etiquette.

Time seemed to stop as she savored each delicious bite. She dipped everything in either the rich butter or gravy, wanting to absorb as much fat as possible from her meal. The trembling stopped a few moments later, after she had consumed the calories and vitamins her body so desperately needed. She was then able to use the fork and eat with a bit more decorum.

She looked over at her dinner companion only to discover his plate was still empty. "Aren't you having any? There's more than enough to feed an army."

The Dark One laughed shrilly. "Then it is no wonder your army is starving, Princess, if you would give them this to feed _all_ of them! This is just for you. I suppose one can live off of gruel for only so long."

"One does not eat gruel to _live_," she said between mouthfuls. "One only eats gruel to _survive_."

He giggled appreciatively at her quip and helped himself to a bottle from the table. "Would you like some? I can assure you from personal experience that it far better than that swill you have impersonating wine."

Oh, how she was tempted to taste real wine again! "No, thank you," she replied reluctantly. "To be perfectly honest, I don't actually drink when I'm with my guests."

"Your own little Golden Rule, I take it?"

"Yes, you could say that." She reached instead for a goblet of water that had been sweetened with lemongrass. "It keeps me safer that way."

He didn't push the subject further and they quickly fell into a companionable silence. His eyes roamed everywhere except at her, but she couldn't help but feel he was studying her regardless. The food on her plate never seemed to empty, as though it automatically refilled itself with every bite.

"How many patrons have you had?" he asked so suddenly that she choked on a green bean.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," she responded when air was once again able to reach her lungs. "I have had many repeat guests, so it's not as though I'm with a stranger every time. What I can tell you, though, is that in a good month, I'd have an average of one guest a week. Lately, however, I've been lucky to get one or two a month."

"So if I understand correctly, you were making an average of four hundred gold coins a month, yet you still couldn't feed your people? That's a small fortune in any world!"

"Ah, but you're forgetting about the ogres," she said sadly.

Rumplestiltskin's face scrunched up in confusion. "Didn't your husband and his army defeat the ogres years ago?"

"Yes, they did. And even though they are gone, gone and never coming back, merchants and sailors say they are too afraid to enter our territories without a hefty incentive. Our ships were all destroyed and so we have to rely on the other kingdoms for shipment as well. They demand extravagant prices for the most basic supplies, then add additional fees to transport them here. They called it a danger fee."

The thought of the thousands of gold coins wasted on the extra tariffs and fees made her blood boil. Her faith in humanity had certainly taken a dive when she saw the selfishness of mankind during their awful plight.

"Tell me. How did you fall into this work in the first place?" His face frowned darkly and for a moment, she could understand why he was the most feared creature in all the lands. "Did your husband force it on you?"

The laugh erupted from her belly so quickly that she surprised even herself. "Oh, gods no!"

"I fail to see the amusement, dearie."

"I'm sorry," she said as she wipes some butter from her lips, "but the idea of Gaston ordering me into it is ridiculous! He was against it from the very start. Personally, I think he would rather starve. But it's not just ourselves we're thinking about. It's all the widows and children left to fend for themselves."

He filled a bowl with the largest, freshest berries she had ever seen and covered them with the thick whipped cream. "Why did you never call on me for help with the ogres?" he asked curiously as he handed her the tasty bounty. "My price would have undoubtedly been extreme, but apparently so was your solution."

She thought of her answer carefully before responding. "I don't believe my father and his advisors would have accepted your help."

"And yet he'd rather have his daughter whore herself out to me instead!" he snarled.

"He is not aware of what goes on here," she replied quickly. "Only Gaston, my most trusted servant and my guests are privy to my activities. We don't advertise, if that's what you're thinking. Gaston usually takes visiting nobles aside and inquires discreetly. No one has ever refused the offer. For many of them, the chance to bed a royal Princess is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Twice if they can afford it."

Rumplestiltskin laughed derisively. "Or more if they can make their own gold?"

"That _was_ the idea," she admitted shyly. She reached out a hand and boldly placed it on his thigh. "Have you ever bedded a princess, Rumplestiltskin?"

He tensed at the contact and held his breath. "No," he replied quietly, his eyes seemingly in a far away place. "And neither has it ever been on my to-do list."

Her hand fell away as he swiftly sat up. A pocket watch magically appeared then disappeared in his grasp. "It would seem that dawn is almost upon us, dearie. I will bid you goodnight now."

Dawn? Already? How could that be? The hours seemed to have passed like minutes! "But we didn't…I mean… you didn't exactly get your gold's worth."

"I assure you I did. I admit I was curious when your husband made me such an indecent proposal, and I wanted answers. My curiosity has now been sated. Our deal is complete."

"Oh." She was suddenly experiencing a multitude of emotions, all vying for dominance, the most prominent one being confusion. "Well, thank you for such a memorable evening. Will I ever see you again?"

"Ah, you mean will you ever see any more of my gold again?"

Did he really think so little of himself? "No. I've enjoyed your company. I meant what I said earlier; I really would like the chance to get to know you."

"Then perhaps you will." He bowed to her without the slightest hint of mockery and grinned mischievously. "If I ever have another need that requires sating, that is."

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone. The table with all its delicious offerings disappeared, to be replaced by her four post bed. The black lace that he had found so distasteful lay over the covers, exactly where she had left it. While the dozens of nightgowns she had been forced to try on had vanished as well, the blue gown remained on her newly nourished body.

Belle quickly retrieved her robe and raced up the stone steps. She needed to speak to Gaston immediately, both to reassure him that she was fine, and to reassure herself that he hadn't drunk himself to death after his deal with the Dark One.

When she pushed open the secret door, she was surprised to see the darkened sky outside the window. She knew there was no possible way that the night had passed so quickly! He had lied about the time in order to leave early.

She couldn't help but feel mildly rejected.

"Gaston?" she called out into the lit room. If his lamp was still on then he must have lain awake all night waiting to hear her call for help. "Gaston, you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine; great in fact! You won't believe…"

She faltered when she saw Gaston and Natalie sitting at the foot of their bed, their blankets wrapped around them protectively. Gaston turned to look at her and she could see how much this night had hurt him. His haggard face looked as though it had aged by decades in the last few hours.

"Gaston? What's wrong?"

His shaking hand pointed to the floor in front of him. She approached slowly, fearful for what she may find on the other side. It was hard to identify in the darkened room, but by the reflection of the dim light she could make out the unmistakable glint of gold.

"It's _six_ _thousand_ golden coins," supplied Gaston, sounding dazed and confused. "The Dark One was just here. He says he desires your companionship every night for the next month."


	7. Chapter 7: Hope

Chapter 7: Hope

Belle's mesmerizing blue eyes crinkled seductively as she boldly reached out her hand and placed it on his leather bound thigh. It had been so long since anyone had touched him (with something other than a weapon, that is) that he was barely able to stop himself from jumping at the unfamiliar warmth of human contact. "Have you ever bedded a princess, Rumplestiltskin?"

He shivered at the way his name rolled off her tongue, like it was a name to be cherished and not feared. Once her question had the chance to sink in, however, he felt himself shiver for an entirely different reason.

Cora.

An image of the woman he had once loved, dressed in her snow white wedding gown, pledging her love and devotion to him, quickly came to mind. How he had adored her beyond reason! She had been a peasant in noble's clothing that night, on the eve before she was to be wed to a Prince, and she chose to make a life with him instead.

But in the end, her simmering greed for power had trounced their love as she tore out her own heart and went through with the arranged marriage after all.

"No," he whispered sadly. She hadn't been a princess yet and he refused to be with another man's wife, no matter how many times she had tried to seduce him in later years to gain the upper hand in a deal or to simply get under his skin. "And neither has it ever been on my to-do list."

Her hand squeezed his thigh ever so slightly at his sorrowful words, causing a certain part of his anatomy to twitch uncomfortably in response. He had a sudden and very urgent need to leave her presence immediately.

Summoning an ancient pocket watch to hand, he was shocked to discover that only a couple of hours had passed since he had walked through that secret door. He decided he had no choice but to lie through his rotten teeth. "It would seem that dawn is almost upon us, dearie. I will bid you goodnight now."

A look of disappointment flashed across her face so quickly he almost missed it, only to be replaced with surprise. "But we didn't…I mean… you didn't exactly get your gold's worth." Her cheeks flushed hotly, making her somehow appear even more beautiful.

How could he explain that he had never had any intention of sleeping with her, that he had assumed she was merely a means to his imprisonment? "I assure you I did. I admit I was curious when your husband made me such an indecent proposal, and I wanted answers." His gaze wandered over the luscious lips he was suddenly itching to kiss. He swallowed down his pressing desire for her while his leather pants continued to tighten uncomfortably. "My _curiosity_ has now been sated. Our deal is complete."

"Oh." A deep crease formed between her eyes as she gently worried her bottom lip. Gods! She was going to be the death of him! "Well, thank you for such a memorable evening. Will I ever see you again?"

As if she really wanted to see him! "Ah, you mean will you ever see any more of my gold again?"

"No." Belle's frown deepened and he belatedly realized he had just insulted her honor. Normally that was something he did on purpose when dealing with royals, enjoyed even, but he didn't like the pronounced hurt in those deep, blue eyes. "I've enjoyed your companionship. I meant what I said earlier; I really would like the chance to get to know you."

"Then perhaps you will. If I ever have another need that requires sating, that is."

And in the blink of eye, he was gone, thankful to be out of her intoxicating presence. One second he was in a highly decorated, yet dreary, dungeon and the next he was back in Great Room of his castle, surrounded by the unimaginable wealth that only magic could provide. He looked around at his priceless objects, the roaring fire, the glint of gold everywhere…and never felt more destitute.

Princess Belle was enduring unimaginable hardships, was withering away to practically nothing and yet she didn't seem to covet his wealth. She was curious about his magic, there was no doubt about that, but there really did not seem to be any malicious intent behind her questions. She truly just wanted to help her people and was willing to do unspeakable things to do it. That spoke of a quiet strength, a bravery that he felt he had always lacked.

She was the complete opposite of the women he normally found himself involved with; specifically his late wife, Milah and the Evil Queen's royal bitch of a mother, Cora.

Maybe that was why he continued to find himself alone time and time again.

Princess Belle had been a brilliant bright spot in his otherwise dark and dreary life and he suddenly realized that he didn't want to spend another lonely night in solitude surrounded by his possessions. Soon he would find himself entombed in a dark cage, completely cut off from the outside world, for possibly months, and he didn't want to spend his last remaining days or weeks of freedom alone with nothing but his nightmares and dark thoughts.

She had treated him with more kindness than anyone since his beloved son. She had unintentionally awoken something he thought for sure had been extinguished a long, long time ago; hope.

Before he had a chance to change his mind, he snapped his fingers and teleported himself back to Avonlea, to the location of the highly intoxicated prince that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

The room he found himself in was most definitely a bedchamber, if not a relatively sparse one. Besides the bed, there was only a simple wooden wardrobe, two rickety chairs by the window and a broken stool propped up against the wall that was currently being used as a nightstand.

This family was certainly the most frugal royals he had ever seen in his considerably long life.

A single lamp palely illuminated a lone figure dozing fitfully in the bed, looking as green as the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin's heightened senses easily detected the stench of fresh vomit coming from the chamber pot tucked underneath the raised mattress. The Prince was in for one hell of a hangover come morning!

"Wakey, wakey, dearie!" he called shrilly, hoping to give the young man a headache. "You might want to clean yourself up before your wife returns to your bed."

After three hundred years of living this cursed life, Rumplestiltskin was rarely taken by surprise anymore. He had witnessed the darkest acts and brightest deeds ever performed by mankind and had already been surprised once tonight when he discovered what the Marchland royals were doing to survive day to day. Still, the sudden appearance of a mousy figure underneath the worn quilt that was most certainly not the Princess Belle astonished him.

The bewildering sight of Belle's husband in bed with another woman while she was prostituting herself out to a monster left him absolutely seething inside! It was all he could do not to transform the unfaithful prince into a chicken to feed to Belle at their next encounter.

The woman cried out at the sight of the monster at the foot of the bed and clutched the arm of the Prince in fear.

"Please, shut up," he said tauntingly to the panicking woman. Turning his attention back to the sloshed prince, he bestowed him with his most menacing smirk. "Now, before you ask, I left your charming wife in one piece. No need to wear her out completely the first time out, wouldn't you agree?"

He summoned a red velvet satchel to his outstretched hand and turned it upside down at the foot of the bed. Golden coins spilled onto the floor in droves, more than what could have possibly fit inside the small purse without the aid of magic. "I have decided to take you up on your offer of returning as often as I'd like. I am hereby reserving her services for the next month."

The prince and his little slag stared in openmouthed wonder at the immense fortune now spilling onto their chamber floor. "You cannot!" whispered the prince hoarsely when he finally found the courage to speak.

"Well, I just did," he shrilled in reply. "And don't worry. I haven't forgotten about your little 'danger' fee. She definitely deserves it. So, two hundred gold coins a night for the next thirty nights equals…?

They just continued to stare in horror at the monster looming over them. He sighed exasperatedly at their lack of participation. He so hated having his fun ruined. "Since you're obviously too drunk to answer and your young lady here doesn't look like she knows how to count past twenty, I'll do the math for you. It's six thousand! Count it if you wish but I can assure you it is all there."

The Dark One's heightened senses suddenly picked up the faint sounds of approaching footsteps coming from behind the walls. There must be another hidden entrance somewhere in the room. Of course, Belle would need a way to travel from her chambers to the hidden room unseen. He fleetingly wondered if she was aware of her husband's indiscretions. If not, she would be in a few seconds.

"I _will_ see her again, your majesty," he quietly promised the unfaithful husband. The far wall began to open with the loud screech of dry hinges and he knew it was time to take his leave. "Tonight. Midnight. I will be waiting for her."

And with a flick of his wrist he was back in the Great Room of his castle, wondering what in Seven Hells he had just gotten himself into!

* * *

"Six thousand gold coins!" Belle repeated, suddenly feeling as shocked as Gaston and Natalie looked. "That's more gold than I made all of last year!"

"You're not doing it, Belle," murmured Gaston as he continued to stare at the mountainous pile of coins in revulsion. "I refuse to have you near that monster every night for the next month. He's too dangerous. I forbid it!"

She bit down on her tongue hard to keep her frustration from showing. She knew her husband meant well, but _she_ was the one who had spent the last few hours with the Dark One, not him. "No one decides my fate but me. Besides, he's not a monster!"

"I bet it was simply awful, milady, wasn't it?" Natalie asked hoarsely. She pulled the worn blanket around her shoulders a bit more tightly and shivered. "He was here for only a moment but I got quite an eyeful. His skin looked like the bark of a sickly tree and his teeth were as black as his soul! I can't imagine being forced to spend time with him, let alone having him touch me!"

"Enough!" growled Gaston furiously. He stood up quickly, ran his shaking hands through his hair and kicked the pile of gold. "We are not talking about this!"

It was a rare moment of anger for her normally impassive husband, who was obviously still intoxicated as well as over wrought from worry. She approached him carefully and ran her hand over his back soothingly. "Nothing happened. I don't even think he finds me attractive! He wanted information, nothing more."

"Of course he wanted more!" he barked. "I saw the way he looked at you at the pyre. Why would he have paid a fortune to spend the night with you otherwise? He's as deplorable as every other man who has walked through that secret chamber. Worse, even!"

Natalie got down on her knees and began to gather the scattered coins back into its original pile, retrieving every last one. "Oh, sweetheart, I fear what will happen if she refuses him now. No one breaks deals with the Dark One! What if by angering him he punishes us with some vile plague? Or worse…what if he were to send the ogres back?"

Gaston sighed resignedly then straightened his posture, looking every bit the former general that he once was. "Then I will speak to him personally and return all the gold, even the two hundred from tonight," he stated hollowly. "If he is insulted then maybe he'll only take his anger out on me and leave you two and the rest of the kingdom alone."

Natalie hung her head dejectedly and quietly sniffled. She knew better than to try to talk her lover out of a selfless act of duty. Belle, on the other hand, was far less moved by his willingness to sacrifice himself needlessly. "There's no need to be so melodramatic, Gaston. He will not be refused because I _invited_ him back!"

"But you didn't know that he meant to have you thirty nights in a row! It's absolute madness! It's barbaric! It's obscene!"

"I told him I would like the chance to get to know him better and I meant it," Belle explained calmly. "He treated me with more respect than any _noble_ who has ever walked through those doors and if he is willing to spend six thousand gold coins for my company then I will gladly oblige him."

"But if you didn't…um…_you know_…" Natalie's face became as scarlet as the first nightgown Rumplestiltskin had Belle try on. "Then what did you _do_ for the last couple of hours?"

"We talked. He was curious about how I ended up in these circumstances. He had questions and I answered as honestly as I could without revealing the names of my other guests." She briefly hesitated relating what happened next, but she was adamant to keep her friends in the loop, no matter how guilty it made her feel inside. "Then he summoned some food from his castle and we had a pleasant meal."

"He _fed_ you?" Gaston spat with disgust, as if there was something indecent behind the Dark One's intentions. "What's he playing at?"

"Maybe he likes women who don't faint from hunger in his presence? It was a kind gesture, nothing evil about it."

"I don't suppose he left any behind, did he?" asked Natalie eagerly.

She felt even more guilty now, seeing the hopeful expression on her friend's face. "I'm afraid not. Everything disappeared with him. Except for this beautiful new nightgown, of course. It was a gift."

"So he clothed _and_ fed you?" Gaston turned away from the women and faced the darkened window. "Does the monster believe that I cannot provide for my own?"

"This isn't about _you_," she said exasperatedly. "He found my black lace nightgown to be distasteful. He wanted to spend time with _me_, not with my alter ego. And I'm pretty sure he figured out I was hungry since we made a deal with him a few hours ago to grow our crops. It's not too difficult to guess based on our appearances. We are all severely malnourished!"

Gaston remained silent for several more minutes while the women piled the coins into the only pillow case they could find without holes in it. Belle's mind was a whirl of activity as she mentally mapped out her kingdom's recovery with this sudden windfall. There was so much to do and only a few months before the first frost!

The hefty satchel may have weighed down her arms but it certainly uplifted her soul. For the first time in years she was once again feeling something she had thought long ago extinguished; hope!

"Belle?" asked her husband softly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She approached him with a smile and opened the make-shift sac to emphasize her point. "This is our salvation! Can't you see that? Not only will we have our first harvest in years but we finally have the gold to rebuild our kingdom! Our people will not only survive but will flourish!"

"But can you guarantee your safety with him?" he insisted. "Because I don't think that I can! He's too powerful! A man who can appear and disappear at will or grow crops from dead soil is someone that cannot be stopped with a sword."

"He won't harm me. I can feel it."

"But what if…?"

"Enough! I _will_ see him again; with or without your blessing. I gave him my word and you and I both know that I never break my promises."

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Belle. For all our sakes."

* * *

Belle dutifully showed up at breakfast a few hours later, looking perfectly respectable, if not a little worse for wear. She hadn't slept despite her unexpectedly early night with Rumplestiltskin. All she could think about was how dramatically her life had changed in the last twelve hours.

Not only had she summoned the courage to contact the Dark One, she had managed to find a way to keep the golden pillow! The magical globe had just been wasting away in that secret library chamber, collecting dust and spider webs.

No one would miss it. Right?

And now they also had six thousand gold coins on top of that to save the kingdom. But she had to be careful. She would have to concentrate her efforts outside of Avonlea or too many questions would arise. She couldn't risk the council finding out about the money or that she had sought out the help of the Dark One.

"Where did you ride off to last night, my dear?" asked King Maurice, interrupting her musings. "One of the guards thought he saw you leaving the city just after dinner."

"It _is_ curious, Princess," added Salir, glaring suspiciously over his tea cup. "It's unlike you to wander far away from the castle, especially so late. You being so…delicate and all."

Belle opened her mouth to reply but Gaston somehow beat her to it, despite his immense hangover. "Don't worry, Maurice. I was with her. I thought it would be nice for the two of us to spend some time alone. You know, ride off into the sunset together." He picked up Belle's hand and gently kissed her knuckles.

"Yes, Papa," she added. "We just needed a few hours to ourselves."

"With a wagon?" chuckled Maurice. He playfully punched his son-in-law on the arm and winked. "Ah, to be young and in love!"

Natalie unceremoniously dumped a ladle full of thick oatmeal into Gaston's bowl, causing it to splatter over his best tunic. Belle snorted into her tea and tried her best to avoid her husband's sheepish looks over at his mistress. She was a bit more delicate in dispensing Belle's breakfast but not quite gentle enough. Maurice may have been too preoccupied with his mead to notice but Salir had eyes like a hawk.

She turned her attention to her own breakfast to avoid the Cardinal's piercing gaze. Yesterday the oatmeal would have made her mouth water. Today, however, she merely picked at it. She would have declined the food altogether but she had to keep up appearances. If the starving Princess were to suddenly start declining food then it might raise suspicions.

The lumpy offering was bland and overcooked. She would have forced herself to eat every bite but after the third mouthful her stomach began to revolt. With one hand covering her mouth and the other her stomach, she lunged for the exit.

"We may have overdone it on the wine last night," she heard Gaston explain as she raced out of the room.

Belle had no idea how she was going to handle another rich meal tonight, let alone a month's worth of meals. She sincerely hoped that her body would adjust quickly because she couldn't afford to offend Rumplestiltskin.

She had a feeling that tonight the Dark One was expecting more than just conversation!

* * *

A/N – I apologize for the long delay between updates. It was not my intent to leave it as long as I had. As some of you may remember from my other story, "By Night One Way, By Day Another," Belle was not able to bear children during her decade long curse. I wrote that, not just as a ready-made excuse to explain how she never conceived a child during Nighttime Belle's _many_ romps, but also as a way to work out my feelings with my own fight with infertility. If only True Love's Kiss could fix everything like it does on OUAT, you know? Unfortunately, around the time of my last update I discovered that I will most likely never be able to carry a child to full term. I guess hearing the news hit me harder than I had thought possible, and I've been having a difficult time coping. But now that I've had some time to come to grips with it and wipe away my tears, it's time to roll up my sleeves, get back to work and try to get my life back to normal. I'm sure many of you will agree with me when I say how therapeutic writing can be. So, don't be surprised (or upset) if I decide that Belle can't have children (without magical intervention, of course) as a way to work through my own feelings and fears.

Right now I don't have the drive to write as often as I was before so while I can't guarantee a weekly update, I promise I won't let it go so long again.

Thank you for your patience and understanding.


End file.
